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.

Comments

[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.

[shieldborne]

It's been a long time coming. Inevitability is a good way to think of it, and if they were in the mood to discuss the feeling rather than do something about it, Steve would have to agree. What he feels for Tony--what he's felt since he met him, but what only seems to be growing stronger now--is too complex to be named simply 'attraction' or 'lust' or even love, though there are bits of all of those things mixed up into it. There's an overwhelming awareness that he needs the foil, the check and balance he presents just by being Tony fucking Stark and sharing the same room with Steve. If Tony didn't exist, Steve would have to invent him.

This was bound to happen sooner or later. It didn't have to be such a rough road to get here, but that's on them both. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

None of that changes the desperation, or the brutality of the backdrop they're struggling to escape and forget, but there's something like satisfaction in the thought that they were always going to end up in bed, all over one another, as soon as one of them gave in and admitted he wanted it.

"You think it's perfect?" Steve's smirk flickers wider, eyes sparkling between weak teasing and awkward pleasure, but he sets the packet aside for the moment while he finishes divesting Tony of his pants and runs his hands all over his legs and up his thighs. While he's getting away with this closeness, he's taking as much as he can, noting all the little scars like his own body should have if it were normal, and doesn't.

Lotion is what he reaches for before retrieving the condom again, pouring a little into his palm. It's hypoallergenic, unscented, which is for the best in this instance. "I need you to tell me if it's too rough or anything," he warns Tony, and hooks one of his legs over his shoulder while his slippery fingertip seeks out and presses gently into place. "I don't wanna hurt you."

[starkingenuity]

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.

[shieldborne]

Despite Steve's mild distaste for one-night stands, the feeling of blind lust isn't unfamiliar to him. Likewise, there have been times he felt so ravenous for some kind of affection, something that's at least a parody of tenderness, that he's been willing to settle for sex in lieu of love, but ultimately he's not very good at separating emotion from physicality. Every touch he gives, every breath he watches rise and fall in Tony's chest, makes him ache with something he doesn't dare to give a name to.

He doesn't want to loom over him, trying to take care not to set off his fears, but his free hand braces against Tony's hip as he presses his fingers in and draws them back out, slow and easy. Anticipation makes it hard work. He bites his tongue, the inside of his cheek, counts backwards from a thousand in his head, anything to blunt the rising need. The concentration has the added benefit of keeping him from babbling something stupid, something he'd wish Tony hadn't heard later on.

When he hits the right spot and feels the shudder and pulse in the other man's body, he makes a small, broken sound of his own. That. Yes, that's what he wants to see, needs to see, more than he wants or needs an orgasm of his own. He needs to enter this man's orbit, needs to see the effect he has on him, needs it to be good for once.

He nods wordlessly when Tony shoves the packet at him, withdrawing his fingers slowly. And he needn't have worried; Steve manages to tear it open without damaging the contents, unrolls the condom expertly and just as easily puts it on. It's been a while, but he remembers.

He is in no way planning on being on top of Tony. Not after seeing him startle, and not knowing he outweighs him significantly. He also doesn't think Tony's up for riding him, tipsy as he is, so once he's ready, he rolls him onto his side and curls up against his back, more or less spooning him. One arm wraps around his waist, the other hand used to guide his cock toward and into his entrance.

He is so careful. Excessively careful, because he really doesn't know how much force is too much, quite yet. Better to err on the side of gentle, at least until Tony gets impatient again. And it's so much, heat and pressure and intimacy he almost can't process, and he makes muffled, snuffling groans against the nape of his neck as he eases into place, unable to say anything coherent for several seconds.

"Y-you okay?" he manages at last, and his voice quivers like a violin string. "Not too much?"

[starkingenuity]

Tony is not okay. He’s not anywhere near okay. Though he had settled down against Steve’s arm and Steve’s chest after the initial stretch and burn of entry, having propped himself up on his own elbow and hand to better see what was going on over his shoulder, now that the blond is fully seated inside of him, there’s an emotional burst he can’t really figure out how to deal with. Steve is thicker than Tony’s had before, and he’s not had anyone like this in years. One’s body tends to forget how to stretch, and though it’s been given a crash course in that facet of this little activity, Tony feels entirely too full.

He’s not whimpering, not like he had been with Steve’s mouth wrapped around him, but making low, generously deep groans in his throat each time Steve moves. The way he breathes, the inflation of his diaphragm, causes the blond to shift and Tony grips the sheets even as he bows his head forward to accept he affectionate whisper-kisses from Steve’s lips on his neck.

“A minute,” he finally growls out, which immediately is followed up by a breathier pleading: “stay-stay still— Fuck, you’re huge. Let me get... get used to you—“

It’s sex. It’s intimate by its very nature, bodies pressing together, bodies entering one another, but Steve just can’t seem to help but make what should be about release into something so impossibly loving. He’s no bucking bronco, a quick start out of the gate. He’s there. Present. Mindful. Checking on him. And all Tony can thing to do is turn his cheek against his elbow and lightly press his lips there.

He counts every second over the next minute, mind keeping perfect time against the world clock. At sixty, he releases his hold on the blankets and grasps blindly for Steve’s other hand to press his palm against his belly. He wants to be held. That’s not normal for him. He experimentally grips the already too wide shaft inside of him with his abdominal muscles and exhales in hot bursts against Steve’s skin.

So, he thinks for himself for a moment, they aren’t going to be fucking tonight. Steve Rogers is going to make love to him, slowly, and it’s going to be utterly mind blowing. He holds onto that as he relaxes, settling his fingers into the grooves between Steve’s knuckles.

“I’m ready,” he says, with a swallow, pressing back against the blond’s thighs, his cock twitching from the effort, delicious and aching at the same time. “Be gentle. And slow...”

He’s not sure if he added that for his own benefit...or because he sort of knows that it will make Steve’s blood burn to know that he’s submitting to him in this. Tony never yields to anyone.

[shieldborne]

Steve isn't made of stone, after all. There are very few men who wouldn't be pleased to hear 'fuck, you're huge' in this particular context, and Steve is not one of the few. It's a well-timed compliment, or complaint, or whatever it is. He's feeling the same sense of intimacy, extremely welcome, but foreign and a little frightening. This is the end of the world, where the two of them are concerned, but they're not facing it alone. They're facing it together on expensive sheets in a fancy New York hotel, and it's strange that that almost makes it feel okay.

It almost makes it feel like nothing matters except the white-heat of their bodies joined, the taste of Tony's skin, and the groans he's making.

Steve himself makes a soft sound, halfway between a chuckle and a moan, acknowledging Tony's request, and nods against him. He's not counting seconds, but he continues to nuzzle and make inaudible whispers against his neck, hoping that Tony can't tell that between swears and 'oh god's there's a silent 'help me, help' and a 'wanna love you'. Sex babble is notoriously unreliable as a glimpse into a man's psychology, but even like this Steve isn't a liar. He only tells lies of omission.

"Oh, ohh...Tony..." It's the action of holding onto Steve's hand that gives weight and strength to his voice again, and his fingers tremble against the other man's skin. It's stupid, but the emotion prompted by that little gesture threatens to break his control. He bites his own lower lip again, almost enough to draw blood.

He's not sure what would have happened if Tony hadn't just said he was ready. He can be gentle. He can try to be slow.

"You're so..." he chokes out, squeezing him closer carefully as he starts to move his hips in shallow thrusts. "Goddamn it, Tony. So tight...y're killin' me."

[starkingenuity]

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.

[shieldborne]

He meant it metaphorically, in the most positive way possible. Although, in an awful, dark, sad way, Steve does associate dying with not-alone. What he started to tell Tony earlier, and never got the words out, was how light it felt, dancing on the edge of darkness with the Winter Soldier seconds away from cracking his skull. Light, and safe; Bucky was there, so it was going to be all right, no matter what happened...

In a way, this is an echo of that, without the violence. They have nothing left to lose, nothing to return to whether they succeed or fail. But Tony's here.

Maybe it can still be all right, no matter what happens.

He doesn't want to let go. Emotional pain starts to dissolve and blur into the physical pleasure, and Steve feels lightheaded, shaky fingertips kneading Tony's skin as he kisses and licks his neck and shoulders because that's all of him he can reach without changing positions. Tony is all around him, squeezing his cock, pressed into his chest, holding his hand, claiming and being claimed all at once.

In light of the encouragement, he's able to tune out the equations, but if Tony's being talkative, so is Steve, if somewhat more quietly, gasping out endearments he normally wouldn't utter aloud, especially to Tony Stark: 'sweetheart' and 'baby' and 'angel'. He's semi-delirious, it's so good, and the noises Tony makes break his heart wide open. It's wonder he's not bleeding out right here, joy and need staining the Egyptian cotton sheets beneath them.

He has enough sense to guess that Tony will need his hand to get to climax, but that presents a minor dilemma, because he doesn't want to loosen his grip on him in any way. At last he relents, though, sliding his hand down his belly, stroking fingertips through curls of hair before wrapping them around his cock.

Then it's Steve that's whimpering, tiny desperate noises against Tony's skin. "Sshh, shh, I've got you, it's okay, I'm here, Tony, please, please let me--"

When he comes, he makes sounds that aren't even sounds at all, just gasps and wheezes, like the air has been punched out of him, shuddering like it's too much pleasure for his body to handle.

[starkingenuity]

Maybe it’s the sound of those endearments (because who would call him ‘sweetheart’ or ‘angel’) that snaps him back to himself, but it’s just in time for Tony to feel Steve’s hand leave the partial death grip that he has had on him and cup the straining muscle leaking onto the sheets. Those words are not going to be spoken about. Not the meaning behind them (sex-brain, perhaps) not the way they make him feel, and not how they carry him right through sensation to the brink.

And that happens just too fast.

Crying out, the orgasm hits him hard, like a bullet, and he can feel it in Steve too, just a single step ahead of him. He’s been leading the dance, despite his basic inexperience, and it’s completely paid off for them both. Tony is panting, covered in a sheen of sweat and nerves, when the last twitch of Steve’s cock inside of him ceases and the tightened muscles of his abdomen relax all at once.

Normally, this would be the point where Tony would get up and head to the bathroom, but Pepper’s done wonders for breaking him of some of his phobias and Steve’s semen might end of being some biological fountain of youth, anyway. Before the blond can do something like roll over, though Tony already knows that he won’t, he makes a readably desperate grab of the back of Steve’s thigh to keep him there, to keep them docked, at least until the other man softens too much to make that possible.

Now there’s too much to talk about, more than there had been on the burning streets of New York City, more than there had been when Tony got himself drunk and Steve started to look like Steve again.

The older man readjusts his arm over Steve’s and while he’s, technically, he’s cuddling with him right now, he’s desperate to maintain the fairytale romance that Disney never fully gives its audiences. Tony can and sometimes does live in delusion. But you don’t just have Captain America make love to you like you’re the most important person in the world (even if your ego already tells you that you actually are anyway) and want to go back to reality. Not when he’s still inside of you. Not while you still feel him and smell him on your skin.

[shieldborne]

People always implied to Steve that penetrative sex was more intense than oral or handjobs. Now he gets it. It's not so much the physical sensations, but the body-to-body contact and the awareness of the other person's physical presence makes a huge difference. He's trembling as he starts to come down from it, breathing heavy, and he's aware there are tears staining his cheeks. He's glad Tony's facing away from him for that reason, but even more so when he grabs onto him and makes it clear he's no more ready to separate than Steve is.

Steve feels unbelievably delicate. One wrong movement, one harsh word could break him. He's frightened and euphoric, and he holds onto Tony because the last thing he wants to do is let him go.

He loves Pepper. He reminds himself. And I love Bucky. Except, of course, Steve said it himself, earlier: It's possible to love more than one person at a time.

That's a better reason to have done this than simple desperation for a connection to hold onto. Although, it's possible to have more than one reason for doing something, too.

Gradually, his breath evens out, but not without hitches in it, telltale sobs that probably betray to Tony how he's not the only one affected by this. Steve tilts his head forward, nuzzling in to rest his forehead against the back of Tony's hair.

"God. Tony...? Can we...both agree...that that wasn't a one-time thing?" He croaks, once he thinks he's found his voice again. "Please?"

They've strayed into emotional waters too treacherous to navigate without wrecking, but he's pretty sure they can find common ground in 'that-felt-good', if nothing else. "You feel...you're warm. Thank you..."

[starkingenuity]

Steve hasn’t just gone and blown it or anything, though Tony can’t help but stiffen when he starts to speak. He’d been fine with the light sobbing. Tony had actually expected it. What they’d done, for Steve, was brand new. In a way, it was brand new for Tony too. He’d never had a male lover treat him like that. On the occasion he wanted to be fucked like this, it was done quickly and roughly. Women cuddled. Not men. And Tony hadn’t even wanted to cuddle them most of the time either. Being with Steve is like seeing a unicorn. You think you understand the mythos but nothing can prepare you for the real thing.

The nuzzling at his neck though? That’s nice. It stimulates his tired but blissed our body just a little and even causes him to used his muscles to clamp down on the other man’s penis. He might need to rethink his enjoyment of this whole thing later... obviously, quick and rough doesn’t do for him what slow and rolling and gentle had.

But that’s for another time. Steve’s presence had been making him sigh with contentment and he’d even chuckled a little when the blond mentioned wanting to do this again.

Tony didn’t need to think of a reply for that because he wanted, very much, to do this again. Many times. “We’ve got awhile together,” he even promises.

And then the thank you. Tony shuffles a little, though trying to keep Steve inside of him and glance up at his face is difficult. “Don’t thank people after sex, Rogers,” he says, though the look on the Captain immediately softens him and his tone. “It’s not like a did you a service. I liked it too. I wish I knew I’d have liked it this much years ago because I’ve been really missing out. Not to give you a big head about it but... I think I lost time. Shit. You’re getting too soft. That was my only damn condom.”