Oh, God...

[shieldborne]

Infinity War Open Post






THERE WILL BE SPOILERS.

Drop me a prompt, or ask me to drop you a prompt. Open to doomy pre-IW foreshadowing, fix-it AUs, post-IW angst, character interactions that should have happened but didn't on-screen, crossovers, and whatever else anyone can come up with.

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[starkingenuity]

Steve doesn’t pose a threat right now, not when Tony is still got his mind half caught up in imagines of chorus girls with their thighs wrapped around his ears. It’s oddly endearing. Should something like that be endearing? Probably. Tony doesn’t imagine that there had been a lot of women that had experienced oral sex during the Second World War. Not in that sort of patriarchy. So good for Steve.

He’s still congratulating the then twenty year old when he’s lightly pressed into a chair and calls out demands for exactly what foods Steve should put on a plate for him, arms loose over his thighs.

Steve’s use of the word ‘technically’ is a little more amusing than stuffing his face right now, even in the effort to sober up. He really ought to ask for some of that coffee, but he’ll get to it. “There’s only one definition. Your penis has to go into someone between their legs or someone else’s penis has to go into you. Unless you’re a lesbian. By the way, you’re not. Lesbians... I don’t understand lesbians. But I appreciate their existence.”

[shieldborne]

Manhandling Tony into a chair is more fun than it ought to be. Steve tries to just focus on his relief that he hasn't upset him again, but it's hard when they're talking about food and sex in almost equal measures. Have they ever been this casual around one another? Even at group parties there's been a little distance between them.

He really doesn't want to encourage Tony to drink to excess, but Steve is reluctantly starting to enjoy himself.

He makes a show of looking grudging, but puts Tony's plate together as requested, with generous servings. He even uses utensils delicately, rather than his hands, which ought to be appreciated. "Intercrural doesn't count? I think your definition is too limited, and you're lucky I'm not a lesbian because I would be rolling my eyes into the next county after that commentary."

Oh, he gets what Tony means, and he is far from immune to the allure of watching two women canoodling, but he's pretty sure no actual lesbians want to hear that. "One of the girls threatened to bend me over a table and stick a prop pistol in me once, but I'm pretty sure she was joking. Fredolf would have had a fit--that was our stage manager. He played Hitler off and on for us, too. That's why the nickname--I don't think anyone would actually name their kid Fredolf."

He brings Tony the plate and sets it in his lap, then goes back to fill one for himself. "In the interest of getting one more aspect of your prurient interest out of the way while we're on topic, it wasn't just the girls. There were a couple good-looking stagehands, too, and a photographer in Des Moines, but we didn't talk about that kind of thing in the 40s."

"Anyway, it felt kind of hollow after a while."

[starkingenuity]

Use of utensils is a big positive to Tony’s already shifting review of who Steve Rogers, as a person, happens to be. Considerate now joins the list of kind and giving. He’d expected a lot from the guy, he’s Captain America after all even if he gave up the title and the sweet PSA deal, but this sort of raises the bar.

It makes him more human, too. And more relatable. He’s not the paragon of virtue. Under the costume, he’d just been a man.

The latest confession does get Steve quite the long look. ”That’s…amazing. I’m going to make so much money on your tell-all book. And all of those college kids in art class are going to feel so vindicated. For the record, did you leave the boots on with those stagehands?”

What? Steve going down on chorus girls and stagehands in just his boots is pretty damned hot.

[shieldborne]

"What, the bright red Tinkerbell boots?" Laughing, Steve sets his own full plate on the chair across from Tony's. He's gone for a little bit of pizza, and then for a lot of anything that looks sweet.

"Really, you're gonna fixate on those? You know what, they were the most comfortable shoes I ever wore until I came out of the ice. I left the boots on backstage, yeah. Photographer got us a private room, but I didn't get to stay long."

He can't just leave the shortcake on the floor, is the thing. He's not going to go borrow a carpet cleaner or anything, but his sense of responsibility is such that he has to make a cursory clean up attempt, so he picks up the wastebasket, tosses the dropped garlic knot into it, then grabs a handful of napkins and gets down on the floor to pick up the dessert.

On his knees. He's not thinking about how this reflects their current discussion. "Anyway, I'm not all that proud of myself in retrospect. It was an outlet, and no one got hurt."

[starkingenuity]

“It can be fun if it hurts a little, sometimes,” Tony says, watching Steve’s ass as he crawls around playing maid. Those jeans are just perfect, made specifically for him. Or maybe he’s just got the ideal body for jeans. Maybe anything looks good on him. Tony finds himself crossing his legs, both to balance his well stocked plate on his knee and to hide what alcohol is supposed to take care of, but never does when it comes to Tony. Sex is better on alcohol because he can focus better. It acts like a bouncer, keeping the constant stream of thought going around his head like a freight train at bay so he can enjoy himself.

Unfortunately, right now it’s laser focusing him in on what it might look like to have a freshly blond head in his lap.

“And you’ve got better control now. Hey, if you just like being a giver, more power to you. But I didn’t take you for someone with that kind of oral fixation. Still don’t believe it can be that enjoyable if all you’re not balls deep at some point.”

This is too casual. They’re talking about sex in ways that Tony never does. It’s obvious that he’s had lots and lots of sex, sure, but he doesn’t kiss and tell. Or shoot his load and tell.

Why Steve is being so open is beyond him. And he doesn’t care either. A little bit of sexy talk when you’re grieving helps. That’s why there are hotels next to graveyards.

[shieldborne]

"A little, or a lot?" Steve shoots him a look that's hard to read. "I did some of that, too."

That seems to be all he plans to say about that little bombshell, though, ducking back down to scrape up berries and whipped cream out from under the cart. Depositing the mess in the trash, he rises again easily and heads for the chair where he's left his plate.

"That's what I'm telling you, though, Tony. It wasn't about pleasure back then, it was about...maintaining my sanity." He sits and takes a thoughtful bite of pizza, then sighs internally because it isn't quite right. It's good, but it's not like it was when he was a kid and it was a poor man's food of choice in the summer.

"I had to have some kind of outlet. The experiment changed my entire physical structure and a pretty big chunk of my brain, too. There was no time to learn coping mechanisms. Maybe if I'd stayed in the lab like Phillips wanted me to, but somehow I don't think they'd have been focused on helping me adapt, just picking me apart to retroengineer the serum. I was kind of desperate."

"...not that they weren't all attractive, and most of 'em were sweet to me. Especially the guy in Des Moines. I just...it wasn't enough. Do you get what I mean?"

[starkingenuity]

There goes Tony’s personal little inappropriate thought bubble. Steve’s gone and gotten emotional on him and Tony isn’t in the right mindset for that. Besides, what Steve says about it not being enough? He gets it. He doesn’t mind saying that he does, even if it just puts this conversation safely out of the realm of plate-on-knee posturing. “I get what you mean,” he confirms, verbally. “It’s great and all, but missing the love. Took me most of my life to find it and the shitty part is that it was there for a long time, waiting for me. I missed a lot of years. And I missed a lot more years just dragging my feet. Stupid. It was stupid. And it’s over now and I can kick myself, but it’s not going to do any good.”

But Steve keeps putting up the little tidbits about the Guy in Des Moines which leads Tony to think he’s talking about the guy that features the heaviest in his sketchbooks, even the ones from after the war, the ones he left in his room at the compound, and not so much the gal he’d had plans to dance with at the end of the war.

Generally, Tony’s an ass sometimes just to be an ass, but this time, he’s an ass because he’s curious and he still doesn’t have that Other People’s Shoes mentality on his best days. Empathy isn’t something that had ever been instilled in him, but he’s gotten better than he had been the first time he and Steve met.

“Yours was Barnes. That’s why you did what you did. And why everyone else has been so empty.”

[shieldborne]

Steve takes a few bites of pizza, not looking back at Tony for the duration. He's got that thousand-yard stare again, except that it's focused on his plate which is not that far off. It's weird how quickly the pizza goes from tasting not-great-but-palatable to sawdust in his mouth. He nods silently, swallows, clears his throat.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was always Bucky, and he knew it by the end, but it's not that simple, either. It's possible to love a lot of people at once, Tony. I loved Peggy, too. If things had been different, maybe the three of us could have made something work; I don't know."

"I guess the trouble is if you love more than one person and then lose 'em all it tears you up even more."

He shakes his head hard to clear it, takes a breath, and sets the plate aside. "I'm sorry. About Pepper. I can't even tell you how sorry I am."

[starkingenuity]

“Kinky.” Probably not his best case scenario response but he’s just gone from thinking Steve Rogers is as pure as the mountain snow to finding out he’s slept around and is poly amorous. Or had the potential to be and would have been fine with it. He’d also rather be a jackass than have to talk about Pepper right now.

She’s out there. In fact, he knows just where she is and he could easily see her and talk to her and hold her. He could be a better man to her than this six years young Tony is. He could have her— But he won’t. It’s different. It wouldn’t be right.

And why deny himself something he needs?

This whole time travel thing is really dumb and he really hates it.

“We’re not the only people that lost our families. Shit happens. Shit’s been happening to people since we huddled around camp fires. It’s time to move on. We’re going to fix this so my other self can have Pepper. And we can spring Barnes from HYDRA and give him back to your other self. We’ve got six years of future in our heads and we can do a lot of good with that. And we’ve got to keep our eyes to ourselves. Find new people to deal with our shit, right? There’s got to be other people out there like your photographer from Des Moines and a blonde that can keep me in line.”

He’s over most of the stuff on his plate and so he makes a big, dramatic show of lifting it up slowly with both hands and stare at Rogers as he dumps the whole thing in the carpet. There’s tomato gravy and finger sandwiches all over the carpet at his feet.

They can die tomorrow. Or be puffed out of existence. And he’s got a blond right here that can keep him in line.

“Oops.”

At least he can get some eye candy.

[shieldborne]

Steve fails to see how a committed three-person relationship is any kinkier than strings of one-night stands. His brain doesn't work the same as everyone else's, though; he doesn't think or feel the way most people seem to.

And neither does Tony. He is brutally tactless, completely without shame. Maybe it's partly that he's still drunk and grieving, only...only, Steve's known him for long enough that he can't make himself believe that. It's just the way he is, unfiltered and goal-focused whether the goal is completing a project or coaxing a reaction out of Steve Rogers.

The thing is, he's succeeding. For a moment, some small part of Steve mourns that it has to be like this, that he can't have at least a taste of something softer and kinder. Men like them weren't made to be comforted, maybe. Iron Man. Captain fucking America. But tender or not, it's an offer he wants very much, not just to get him out of his own head, but to give Tony the same benefit. They have to keep each other sane a little longer.

His gaze drops to the floor at Tony's feet, then sweeps up again, and there's something predatory creeping into his body language. "You makin' fun of me, Tony?" he asks quietly. "Or is this your way of asking me for a blow job?"

He gets up and retrieves the wastebasket and a few more napkins. "Because either way, I'm pretty sure you're gonna regret it when you're sober."

He sinks easily down beside Tony's chair and hooks one arm over his knees, making sure he's not going anywhere before he starts picking up the meal debris with his other hand, piece by piece.

"Brakes are off," he says. "If you're playing chicken with me, you're about to lose."

[starkingenuity]

“Can’t it be both?” Tony hadn’t been asking for a blow job. He just wanted to watch Steve crawl around again, and maybe to make fun of the fact that he’d clean up when someone’s whole job is to clean up. He’d half expected an argument so that they could diffuse the old fashioned way, with a shouting match. Steve could have told him that making more work for the staff is unconscionable. Tony could have shot back that he always tips well anyway. But evidently what Steve had admitted to when it came to his early day promiscuity, to his need for relief when it comes to giving pleasure, hasn’t quite changed.

The look in those sharp blue eyes causes a twinge of need, burning and bright, in Tony’s stomach.

Maybe they both need it.

Sex doesn’t have to change anything. It’s never changed Tony.

That said, he doesn’t really want a blond head in his lap. Steve is nothing like Pepper. His shoulders and back, the shade of his hair and it’s cut would never allow Tony to mistake the two. But that’s not going to be enough.

Steve’s got to understand how important that can be.

“It’s not chicken unless there’s something you can swerve from,” he says, wishing there were a pair of red boots around in Steve’s size. “It should hurt. A little,” he says, dropping the plate he’d just spilled to free up his hands so that he can reach out and touch the fair blond locks on Steve’s head. It feels different now than they had when he was sober and trimming it. “I can’t hurt you.” Case proven by a sharp tug of that hair. “And I don’t want a blow job. No one regrets a blow job. Want to tick off some boxes? Strike out that ‘technicality’ on your virginity?”

Tony’s not serious.

Well maybe a little serious. His voice hasn’t dropped the way Steve’s has. Tony’s games are hard to figure out the rules to.

[shieldborne]

Maybe Steve jumped to conclusions thanks to his own conflicted feelings from the last hour or so. Maybe some part of him was thinking about it already (he has a guess what part that was). Still, he's not convinced Tony's completely innocent here, and one of them tipsy and the other one just shy of his breaking point might be a recipe for disaster.

"I'm not sure what you're telling me," he says, but then his body gives a weird little lurch when Tony puts his fingers in his hair, leaning into him aggressively as a shudder runs through his chest.

"Yes, you can," he contradicts the other man, eyes squeezing shut. "Real easy. Without even trying, I bet. Is that what you want? You want to hurt me? Go ahead."

[starkingenuity]

Tony is drunk, very drunk, drunk enough to have a terrible fine motor coordination, but his mind is still sharper than most. He remembers that little shudder. Steve made it a few times while he had been cutting his hair. He’d leaned in against his finger tips. His eyes had closed at least once. His initial assessment that Steve is lonely and touch starved was accurate.

He might be a temporary virgin, but he’s also not shy to a little bit of adult fun either. The guy can’t get relief from drinking, right? But he’s spent so much time being sober— Didn’t he partake while on the lam? Has he been completely celibate for the last six years?

Again, Tony find that to be so sad.

Still, if Steve wants a hair tug, he’ll give it— Right until he hears him say that he’s willing to let Tony hurt him.

Tony’s eyebrows furrow and he drops his hand, calloused and thick, to Steve’s jaw. There’s something pretty amazing about tipping back such a strong face. Captain America can kick the shit out of him. Fully armored. And he has...

Tony is pretty sure that Steve’s right. It’s fucked up. It’s going to end badly. But there’s nothing either of them has to lose right now. “I don’t want to hurt you, idiot.” Not his best quip. “I want you to fuck me.” It’s a strange sensation, to be vulnerable and powerful at the same time. “Unless you want to go and fuck the clerk. Less fun for me, though.”

[shieldborne]

Long runs and gym time cover for a a multitude of quirks and needs. You can't punch away desperate depression, but if anyone's going to try? Of course it would be Steve. The crazy thing is, it's sort of worked. He's been functional, up until Thanos showed up. He even felt like he was pulling his life back together in some small way, knowing Bucky was safe, recovering among compassionate and trustworthy people. Watching Wanda and Vision's tentative little love affair. Exchanging jokes and stories with Sam and Natasha, in between missions and heart-pounding scares. It was nothing like normal, but it was something Steve could adapt to.

He missed Tony. He missed a lot of people, but Tony was the real stand out, and he figured that was probably due to guilt. Maybe. He's sure ready to fall into bed with him though, and that has nothing to do with a guilty conscience.

He makes a small, low sound in his throat at the feel of Tony's hand on his face. That's some kind of craving answered right there, calluses stroking against his skin, strangely gentle. The shivering eases, but Steve's eyes are dark and glassy when he opens them again.

"Yes, please," he says, with the shadow of a smile on his lips. "I've been thinking about kissing you for the last half hour."

[starkingenuity]

Yes please. Isn’t that the cutest thing he’s ever heard come out of a grown man’s mouth? Maybe he shouldn’t be thinking in terms of cute, maybe he shouldn’t be thinking along these terms at all, but Steve’s confession about kissing him hits home in all of the very worst of ways.

It’s possible to love two people at the same time.

Tony is being presumptuous, but he loves to be loved. He craves it. Affection has always been hard to come by because he’s not the sort of person that usually demands it. He’s hard to love, and when someone cares for him, he naturally wants to care back. Usually he pushes people away before that can happen (especially children), but he’s hurting now and there’s a gap that needs to be filled.

Pun is probably intended.

“Just half an hour? I’m losing my charm,” Tony replies, leaning down to kiss Rogers. There’s really too much emotion going through him to be able to grasp the ends of any of them and untangle them from each other. He doesn’t try. He kisses Steve chastely at first, bolder when the blond responds, and with a slight breathlessness as he pushes himself off of the chair and more or less into Steve’s lap.

[shieldborne]

Steve is still convinced Tony will regret this when he's sober, but he's physically steadier now, and he's initiating this. It's enough to satisfy Steve's moral compass, which is probably dented right now, but unbroken. His own emotions and needs are knotted up in his chest, in the back of his head, coiled like razor wire around his aching spine. God, is he ever touch-starved--partly his own fault, he rarely if ever asks for physical contact that doesn't involve sparring.

He's also psychologically desperate. They both are. Steve is becoming comfortable with the idea that they're bound now, by familiarity and circumstance if nothing else. Tony is the only lifeline he's got here, and Steve...doesn't especially want another photographer from Des Moines. It's always been terribly important to him to be seen and known for who he is. For all that there are gaps, for all that they've hurt one another badly, Tony sees Steve Rogers under the spangly costume. He knows him. They know each other.

And Steve is a giver, not just of sexual affection, but of pep talks and gentle heart-to-hearts, friendly touches and platitudes and unwanted advice. Tony's never been very receptive, but his defenses are down now. It's an opportunity Steve hasn't seen before.

"Di'n't say I'd never thought about it b'fore today," he says, speech slurring a little as if he's the one who's been drinking. It's just the distraction, his pulse picking up, chills creeping down his spine.

Stupid thing to say. Stupid, stupid. But true. He's not immune to Tony's charm and brilliance, and never has been. The way they used to bicker and rub one another raw fed that fire rather than dampening it. But there was work, and there was Pepper, and there was Bucky (somewhere, alive, hurt), and Steve had to figure the world was probably safer if he ignored any unresolved sexual tension, whether it was one-sided or not.

Since the world already ended, there's no point ignoring it any more.

He makes a quiet 'ahh' sound against the first brush of lips, then leans into it, quick to draw Tony's lower lip between his teeth and nibble gently. He starts out careful as the kiss deepens, trying to let Tony lead, but something starts to give when he moves off the chair, presses close to him. Steve makes a wounded sound, arms trembling as they wrap around his waist.

"...please..." Please, let this be real. Please let him feel something outside devastation and grim, tenuous hope.

[starkingenuity]

As long as Tony makes the first move, as long as he initiating each new level of intimacy, as long as Steve is begging him softly for more, Tony has the power here. He doesn’t flinch from the way Steve holds him, and in fact, he feels a small touch of vindication as a hand larger than his own presses to the small of his back. Tony’s knees drop from their initial position under Steve’s armpits to the floor and he scoots himself closer, hands still on Steve’s face for a moment before he settles one on his shoulder and the other on a bicep.

What makes it so liberating to be held? Tony’s mind seeks an answer to that incidental tangent, scrounging up some sort of article he’d read in a Playboy when he was a younger man about finding freedom in being dominated. Steve isn’t exactly dominating him now, a hug does not mean that Tony is letting go, but the plan is to yield his body to the freshly shaved Steve Rogers tonight, and that is as far as Tony has ever gone to letting go of himself.

But for all of the years that Tony had sat in Steve’s bedroom when drunk and sad and wishing there had been more sketches of himself in those damned books, for all of the teenage thoughts he’d had about red knee boots and toned abs drilling chorus girls, he’d never thought that this could be an outlet for his grief. Honestly, he’s not even thinking of it now that way.

He’s too desperate for his mind to blank. Alcohol is good, sex is better. This isn’t a teaching moment. This is selfishness.

“Yeah,” Tony responds. He knows there will be regret after this, not for the act itself because it’s just sex and the person he loves is dead, but because he knows that he’s taking advantage of the blond. Steve opened up about the fact that he is bisexual and Tony’s just happy to have a ready source of relief.

Everyone is attracted to him, right? He can get anyone he wants. Used to, at least, as long as they showed interest. And how is this different?

Other then the fact that this could completely ruin the start of their renewed friendship. There should be a risk assessment, there should have been before he dropped that plate. But Steve’s doomed himself. He’s just told Tony that he is wanted and appreciated and that he has been for a long time. So yeah, Rogers. That had been stupid. Tony is a leach and he’ll drain everything.

Cherry lips pull away from Steve’s with a smack, moisture from Steve’s mouth creating the shine on Tony’s. The older man has wrapped his arm around Steve’s neck and he hugs his waist with his thighs, looking down with heated passion into intense blue eyes.

“Think you can handle getting me to bed?”

[shieldborne]

What's the point of resisting, anyway, or even thinking things through? If they survive the next 48 hours and complete their mission, that's all that really matters. Whatever happens after that happens. Steve is poised to give Tony everything he has left because there's no one else to give it to. Maybe that's not such a great reason, but at least they both know they're the other one's consolation prize. Tony can't have Pepper, Steve can't have Bucky, but they can have this. Now.

Maybe when all is said and done, it can be grown and tended into something better and stronger and realer. If not, if it just finishes the process of breaking them down instead, who cares? The two of them are the only ones who'll suffer the consequences.
Steve can be self-destructive even at the best of times. This is actually the worst.

And now that Tony's body is wrapped around him completely, Steve finds the last thing he wants is to be let go. Already he's responding below the belt, body becoming aware of the possibilities here, feeling the warmth and pulse and skin-on-skin. When Tony draws back and speaks, the interruption is apparently too much for Steve; he makes a soft growling sound and buries his face in the crook of his neck. His mouth and teeth are gentle--no biting here--but he kisses and nuzzles against his skin like he can't get enough.

The question has been heard, though. Arms tightening around Tony, he rolls forward a little to get his legs under him and levers himself to his feet. The problem then is that even a super-soldier can't walk across the room with his face pressed against another man's skin, so he ends up just taking a couple steps over toward the wall and leaning into it, pressing Tony between his body and the elegant, neutral-tone wallpaper.

[starkingenuity]

So Rogers might have missed the bedroom, but Tony is quick to adjust. He’s gripped Steve’s shirt the moment that they had gone mobile (though he’s not going to wrap his legs around his waist) and his upper body is strong enough to keep him from falling even if Steve lets go. He doesn’t let go, exactly, and the result of ending up with his back pinned to the wall has about the same sort of effect that Steve’s erection and that little growl against his neck had before it. Tony let’s out such an odd sound that it might actually take Steve aback. It had for Pepper the first time she’d pressed her lips to his throat, just under his chin. Tony’s got a naturally soft, somewhat higher pitch voice, but the breathiness and obvious pleasure paid to that part of his body humanizes him more than it might most.

Steve had been attracted to the vulnerable underbelly of Iron Man and here it is, in full color, blossoming under the touch of his mouth.

Though his feet now find the floor (all right, just his toes), Tony can’t help but tilt back his head. His skin is covered in stubble from a day’s worth of Italian Male hair growth, which only proves to make him more sensitive.

His hands find the curving valley between the muscles of Steve’s bare back and his fingertips press against his spine. His body flinches, but the circumstances are different. He’s not afraid, Steve’s turned his knees to jelly by the way he touches him instead. He’s so kind. He’s strong but so gentle. Tony is used to spoiling himself, but not all that used to someone spoiling him. Not this way. Extremis had given Pepper a lot more spunk and dominance in bed, but this is different.

Tony might be older and wiser (perhaps) and certainly more worldly, but he’s not beyond a little bit of pampering. And he’s not beyond being vocal about what he wants. Tony presses a hand against the wall and uses it to send his body into Steve’s. “Changed my mind about the blow job,” he says, tugging at his belt with one hand. “On your knees, Soldier. Let’s see your world class performance.”

Steve is going to lose his virginity tonight. That’s a given. By why not have an appetizer before the main course?

[shieldborne]

He's willing to try for the bedroom again, but not if it means letting Tony go. As is typical Steve Rogers behavior, he's all in here, and nothing short of an earthquake--or a very definitive 'stop' from Tony--is going to disrupt his focus here. The noise Tony makes only eggs him on; for once in his life he's glad he has that eidetic memory. He will never forget that sound, and he's damn well going to do his best to get more just like it.

Neither will Steve forget the feel of those fingers kneading his spine, as he explores Tony's bared throat. He's kissing him now, lining up soft open-mouthed kisses along his neck and down to the dip between his collar bones, making quiet, barely-there murmurs against his skin.

There's a gasp of protest when Tony's hand moves off of him, but after a few seconds of mental lag, Steve figures out what's just been said to him and just...drops, no protest, no eyeroll, all willing hunger. On his knees, he actually chases Tony's working fingertips with his lips, trying to kiss and nudge against his hands as he undoes his own clothing.

Steve knows how to unfasten pants, too, though, and maybe Tony's a little too slow, because it doesn't take him long to reach up and help. He is less gentle with Tony's pants than he is with his personage, but once the fabric is out of the way he looks up into his face, eyes burning as he takes Tony's erection in hand, close enough for his breath to ghost hot against the head.

[starkingenuity]

The nuzzling is reminiscent to Tony of some overly excited golden lab trying to get attention. It works quite well, causing calloused hands to drop from his fly before he gives in to Steve’s insistence. Giving up authority by directing the shift in power is really Tony’s cup of tea. He builds his machines, he creates his software, to mimic that role for him, willing to do whatever he wants while seeming like they have minds if their own outside of what he created for them. They don’t. JARVIS doesn’t count, since it had been the Mind Stone that gave him the authority that he had not had before, combined with Bruce and Ultron and Tony himself.

The inventor closes his eyes and lets his head fall against the wall. Contrary to popular belief, it is possible to give bad head, but Steve is no where near bad.

And Tony has received many, many blowjobs in his life.

This one takes the case in terms of bliss and he has to do complex calculations to begin to stave off an early and unwelcome ejaculation. Anymore, he’s much too sensitive for multiple rounds that he had enjoyed in his youth. He knows how to stave his pleasure off, usually— Steve’s mouth, velvet and wet, has his stomach in knots mere minutes after his performance starts.

So Tony has to stop him. He has to or they’ll never get to the bedroom, never take the technicality away from Steve— Tony doesn’t want that.

“Oh-okay—“ he finds himself whimpering, like some teenager, and the moment Steve has him out of his mouth, he’s trying to yank him up. “Bed...?” His legs still function, even with a rock hard erection and pants around his knees.

[shieldborne]

Steve is more or less an ideal service top. He absolutely has a mind of his own and will use it in bed; he's capable of true dominance and just as capable of submission if he's approached right. But this softer, more nebulous kind of power exchange suits his physical strength while covering for any lack of experience (which is not a problem for foreplay or giving head, but might show up when they get into the bed for real).

Once he gets to work with his mouth, his hands follow suit, one stroking between Tony's thighs, the other sliding up under his shirt. And if he's good at what he does, the sheer enthusiasm he shows for it only makes it better. He looks up from time to time to watch his face, but mostly he's focused on action, eyes shut and making quiet, ragged groans like he's getting just as much out of this as Tony is.

He is. Tony isn't the only one that benefits from shutting his brain down, and since there are no substances that work for Steve, he has to find activities to compensate. This is a good one, and he's been overwhelmed for days. The process of quieting himself down mentally, emotionally, is starting to click.

Which is why, when Tony whimpers his signal to stop, he's slow to respond until hands press against his hair. Why he makes a pained little sound of loss as he draws back, and why he looks utterly confused by the question he's asked for a full three seconds before standing and scooping Tony up again, bridal-style, without asking permission.

This way, he can at least see and get to where he's going. It's not until he's set the other man on the bed that his verbal centers kick back in, and what he wants to say is 'do they keep condoms in the nightstands here or just Gideon Bibles?' but only the central concern of that question emerges from his mouth: "Condom? Lube?"

His voice sounds a little raw, too.

[starkingenuity]

Condoms. Lube. Right. The first is the eternal problem of all people looking to be safe when they have sex. For Tony to think, for even a minute, to tell Steve it doesn’t matter shows how far gone he is in this. Steve might be a walking condom, but keeping him contained is important for Tony’s need for cleanliness. And as he hasn’t invented a way for men to self lubricate, that could be a deal breaker.

Luckily, Tony always keeps condoms in his wallet. Plane and limo rides sometimes take awhile and Pepper has always been fond of dresses. An added plus is that she can multitask, preparing reports while—

Tony needs to shut that the fuck off right now and as he leans up to fish the wallet from his pocket, currently around his ankles thanks to Steve’s pre-gaming session, his head turns towards the opulent bathroom. “Gonna make due with lotion.”

While Tony does genuinely like prostate stimulation, something Pepper has always been gracious with, but he hasn’t had many male lovers in his life and certainly not for a long enough time to carry lube in his pocket.

He deals with getting his shoes off and deals with getting his pants off and deals with pulling the blue foil wrapped square from inside of it while Steve is on a mission. Watching him return with that little bottle of far too expensive hand cream makes his cock twitch, eyes falling to the tent in Steve’s jeans. His head is cleared now from the alcohol but the fuzz has been replaced with desire, bright and prickly. It takes a lot of willpower not to take himself in his own hand.

“Ever our one of these on?” It’s his only one. This is not time for Steve to experiment with condoms.

[shieldborne]

'Ever put one of these on' he asks, and despite how zoned-out Steve is, he breaks into a quiet giggle. Oh, Tony. It's strangely endearing when he asks that kind of question, or makes it otherwise clear he doesn't think Steve knows about some 'modern' convenience that has actually existed in some form since before Steve himself was born. (What's your thing, Pilates? It's like calisthenics. Yeah, except it was used to rehabilitate injured soldiers from the first World War...)

Benefit of the doubt, though. Maybe he's assuming Steve's innocence rather than the newness of this fascinating rubbery innovation, and he can't be blamed for that. Steve comes over to the bed and sets the lotion down, then quietly undoes his belt, the fly of his pants, grinning at Tony the whole time. When he answers, his voice is still raw--he's legitimately scrambled here--but he can form complete sentences:

"They used to give those out free to servicemen. Somewhere in the Smithsonian archives there's footage of me puttin' one of 'em on a zucchini, Tony. For a PSA. Put it on before you put it in! I couldn't keep a straight face and they decided it was too explicit to release."

Naked, he tosses his pants toward a chair, misses, then thinks better of it and turns and bends to pick them up, and if Tony thinks he's not being given a show deliberately, he's still underestimating Steve's ability to be devious. Once that's handled, he comes closed and puts a knee on the edge of the bed by Tony's hip, and gently takes the packet from his fingers. "And we used to put 'em over the barrels of our rifles to keep out the rain," he adds.

"Son, I've been using condoms since before you were born." Haha, 'son'. He's definitely not thinking clearly if he's talking like that. Captain-America-ing in bed is far from his normal default mode.

Although it's not unlike him to drift into reminiscence when he's stressed. He's been in and out of it since the Raft. That's hardly a surprise. The amused, almost-tender look on his face as he peers down at Tony might be, though.

[starkingenuity]

This is a weird mix for him and though Tony is grief stricken and lustful and filled to the brim with fine oak-aged scotch in a quantity that is meant for sipping and not getting sloshed with, he can’t help but tense slightly when Steve starts talking. It’s not the flinch from before, not the burgeoning need to run should anyone make any sudden move, he’s just struck with nostalgia himself.

How did they get this far? No, honestly. What happened between harsh words to wanting to fuck each other’s brains out? Tony’s had his on and off again attraction to Steve Rogers from before he knew what attraction was, but hate and jealousy had overtaken that fairly quickly. They’ve had their friendship, mostly in the absentee, and they’ve had their fights, mostly in the sort that brought on vast longings to be near each other again, but crossing this particular line is still confusing.

He dumped food on the floor to see if Steve would clean it up. And he had, while taking it for an invitation.

Because... because Steve is attracted to him? Because grief needs an outlet? Because it’s been a long time coming, really.

Tony settles on the last answer, amber eyes lifting as Steve kneels over him. He’d enjoyed the view, the sleek lines of the blond’s body, but he is a more tactile man than a visual one. Funny, really, given how intensely anti touch he had been for a very long time.

“You don’t have a rifle barrel. Or a zucchini. And if you bust that open on your, frankly, perfect cock, I’m going to be very upset and make you go back to the pharmacy to buy a ten pack.” It doesn’t sound like a threat but at least there are words and they are spoken properly.

Despite having Captain Fucking America in his bed. How many people have gotten to say that? Maybe that photographer from Des Moines...

Or maybe no one at all. Steve has never been inside of someone before. And yeah. Tony really feels like gloating about it. “Come on, Captain. I’m not one of your chorus girls or stage hands. And I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

That’s not the drink talking, either. Tony is a bravado incarnate. And dumb enough to ignore his own safety protocols, too.