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Steve wasn’t ungrateful. There was nothing that could make him want to go back to the days where his body felt like it was breaking down on itself. Every movement, breath and second a weighted struggle that had always been his normal. The super-soldier serum had been what he’d always wanted, allowing him to become the person who could enact the change he’d always known he could facilitate. Steve liked what the serum had done to him…
But there were still days when he remembered what being smaller, more fragile felt like. Days where Steve would think about what it was like pushing up into the space of someone who could without a doubt kick his ass and giving no fucks where his words got him. The way people could push and pull at his body and how it would crumble. There were days where he’d think about quiet back alleys or the shared apartments of guys from his art courses. He’d think about rough hands, what it felt like to be held down and how much he enjoyed it.
Steve wasn’t sure what he was doing thinking about it down here in Tony’s lab. What he was doing thinking about it at all. Sure, people were still interested in him, but they were more interested in what he could do to them, how strong he was. Steve had an itch that he couldn’t picture asking anyone to scratch. So to distract himself he’d thrown himself into work… Which is how he’d ended up down in Tony’s lab for the past half an hour staring angrily at the wall while Tony talked about everything but what Steve wanted him to.
“Sorry Cap, I just need to get this over there and then we can sit down and talk about-” Tony trailed off.
“Protocol behind the Iron Legion proposal,” Steve began but paused when he saw Tony bend to pick up what looked like a heavy piece of machinery. Steve wasn’t sure what this particular device did, but it was bulky and upwards of at least a hundred pounds. It’d be a breeze for him to pick up to wherever Tony wanted, then he’d hopefully have the man’s full attention. “I can help with that,” Steve offered, automatically taking a step forward.
Tony snorted. “I can handle the heavy lifting in my own lab Rogers.” As if to demonstrate just that, Tony’s hands curled around the edges and hefted it up. It wasn’t with the same practiced ease Steve might have been able to handle it, but Tony wasn’t breaking a sweat either. Striding confidently forward even with part of his vision impeded. He had a layered look going on today, but Steve found his mind wandering to what lay underneath it. He’d never given it or Tony, any thought before. Not in that light. Their first few interactions had Tony pegged as the guy with a silver spoon in a snarky mouth, and brain that would have done better in someone else’s skull. When it came down to physicality Steve had assumed it was the shiny suit and robotics doing all the work. Standing there now, he imagined toned arms and… Steve shook his head, hard.
“It wasn’t so much a proposal and more of a, if you’d like to put in input now is the time.” He’d been talking and walking, had enough control over what he was lifting to set it down gently.
Steve wasn’t sure why he was swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat. Trying to worry about the words and work up some annoyance over Tony’s response. “It’s the autonomy I’m worried about.”
“Have you met JARVIS? JARVIS, have you met Captain America?”
“Yes, Sir. Though meeting may not be the correct word.” Tony scoffed and mouthed schematics at Steve.
“JARVIS is as autonomous as it gets Rogers. He runs more of SI than Pepper does. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Tony smirked up at Steve. “Not with me doing the programming.” Steve never had found Tony’s arrogance over his own intelligence to be endearing, he still didn’t. But, despite that, the confidence mixed with the recent display of physical strength had Steve’s head swimming. He was sure he came down with more to say, but there was a flush setting over his face that Tony would zero in and target in an instant.
“I have a meeting, but we’ll resume this discussion,” Steve said instead of a goodbye. Taking the path to the exit two steps at a time to get away from Tony Stark. Making all sorts of promises to himself that he’d push these thoughts out of his brain and be better prepared next time.
He did go back to resume the conversation, days later. It was somehow worse than the first go-round. The lab was Tony’s place of safety, where he retreated and was at ease more than anywhere else. There were no overly expensive suits, ties, and other things that accented his figure but didn’t tell you much more than that. It was just him with all the layers peeled back and there shouldn’t be anything attractive about it.
Tony was welding in his office, heat on high and clothing sparse. He was wearing these loose sweatpants and a threadbare undershirt. Steve wasn’t sure where to look first. At the way sweat was coating the front of an already thin fabric, causing it to cling to Tony’s chest and abdomen. The sheer definition of his arms being more than Steve had wagered a guess at days earlier. There was sweat and flexing as Tony used a hammer to straighten out the piece of metal that was being held by one of the robots.
Steve was going to backpedal right out of there when Tony looked up and spotted him. “Rogers!” He shouted, and Steve could feel himself pale. “Perfect timing. Dum-E is being, well a dummy and won’t hold this at the angle I’m going for. Could I get a little help?”
Steve found himself nodding. Mouth more than a little dry as he walked over reminding himself exactly who it was he’d been checking out. Tony handed him some gloves, protective eyewear and pieces of a metal that looked a lot like tongs. Tony did have the eyewear, it was pushed up to his forehead, but not much else… On his hands at least, they were nice hands, strong and capable as he directed Steve into place. When verbal direction didn’t suffice, Tony wrapped calloused fingers around Steve’s wrist and moved him into place. Any hope Steve had of pushing the confusing attraction to the back of his mind died out then.
“Why aren’t you wearing gloves?”
Tony shrugged, pushing the glasses back into place on his head. Bringing the tools back down to the piece of metal that was only beginning to take shape.
“I would have thought you’d have all of this automated.”
“I can’t tell where you’re at on your war with machinery. One day it’s too much autonomy the next you’re wondering why I’m getting my hands dirty.” Tony was lightly joking, but things could go from joking to tense between them in an instant. Steve thought he would prefer that kind of tension compared to the kind in front of him. Tony held his tools with careful positioning, arm not shaking as he curved one side of the metal upward with practiced precision.
“Whenever I’m doing a prototype I try to get my hands on it. Once I have exactly what I want I send it through the automation process,” Tony supplied, unaware of Steve’s wandering mind. “It’s easier to work through the problems when you’re more attuned with what’s going on.” Steve wasn’t sure what the truth was or not, trying to keep his hands from trembling under Stark’s careful attention.
“A little to the left,” Steve complied wordlessly, feeling a little like one of Tony’s bots as he continued to follow each instruction to a ’t’ for well over a half an hour. Shifting restlessly as the heat of the room faded into the background, instead worrying about the growing hardness and hoping Tony was paying more attention to his work than Steve. Which, he quickly found out was the case, Tony was completely wrapped up in what he was doing.
“Did you come down here to talk about something Steve?” Tony questioned when it was clear they were wrapping up. He’d been down there long enough that he could pretend the redness in his face was a reaction to the heat emanating from their work station. Tony took a step back, grabbing a cloth and wiping oil or soot or something from his upper forearm as he went.
“The Iron Legion protocol?” came as a prompt. Tony caught his gaze and narrowed his eyes with enough speculation to jar Steve from his reverie.
“It’s good,” Is what came out of his mouth. He immediately, noticeably, winced.
“Really?”
“There are a few things I’d like to change.”
Tony was smirking, leaning against the work desk. “I figured.” Steve couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. The smirk fell into a frown. “You okay Steve? I get so used to how warm it gets that I forget it can be a lot for some people. Do you need to sit down?”
Steve shook his head. “No, thank you.”
“No problem. I wouldn’t have been able to tell you were hot, you’re not even breaking a sweat.” Tony laughed. “Look at me. Perks of being a super soldier I guess?” Steve had been valiantly not doing that. Now that Tony had gestured to himself it was hard not to notice the glint coming from his skin from the sweat dripping down his skin, down his throat.
“There are a couple,” he said, with a little bit of snark behind it. “They ran a lot of tests when they first, you know.” Steve made a gesture. “I do sweat. It just takes prolonged physical activity. A little more active than holding a pair of tongs near your… Set up.” There wasn’t any fire visible, but something that was producing enough heat that it made the metal they were working with glow orange and the degrees of the workshop to climb upwards. Nowhere near what Steve would have to endure to consider taking a seat.
Tony hummed appreciatively. Obviously looking Steve over, but that was pretty standard behavior for him. “You don’t say,” Tony drawled, the smile on his face growing. Steve rolled his eyes. “Thanks for your help, Cap. Send me an email with your notes. It may be easier.” Tony winked and turned his back on Steve, getting involved in something else entirely unrelated. A dismissal that Steve took gratefully… All the way back to his room where Steve may or may not have fingered himself until he was coming down the shower drain.
The more time Steve spent around Tony, the more he realized he didn’t dislike him. He knew he’d been off the mark on many of the unproven conclusions he’d drawn about Tony the day he’d almost plummeted to his death from that wormhole. He was still arrogant and got in Steve's face just to see what reaction he got, to see what happened when he pushed which buttons. It’s why Steve was convinced he had to hide whatever he may be feeling in his presence, lest he be subjected to Tony’s constant teasing.
But he was done pretending to hide it from himself. Tony was a good looking fella, with warm eyes and curly brown hair that could be anywhere between slicked back or clumsily falling over his face. He held himself like he was the biggest guy in the room. He wasn’t, not with Thor and Steve in the tower, but sometimes it felt like he was. Sometimes Steve felt like he needed to fold himself up to make space for him in a room. More than that with all of his cockiness when it came to money, status, and intellect… Tony seemed to not have a clue about what his appearance did to Steve and there was something intoxicating about that too.
Once again he was standing in Tony’s workshop since he rarely coincidentally ran into him. Tony spent most of the daylight hours down here, ordered food in here. It was maybe once a week Steve would happen to catch Tony heading toward the lower floors for meetings. As a result, Steve came down to meet him with some flimsy excuse. He couldn’t even remember what it was. Tony had… A toolbox and was half under a new classic car. Steve hadn’t realized that Tony restored them all himself, the amount of hard work that must have gone into each one.
Now that he did, he couldn’t stop staring at them… Or at Tony. “So did you come here to look at me or was there something you wanted to talk about Rogers?” Tony said in a complete contradiction to his earlier thoughts. He was up off the floor and grabbing for a drink of water. He was hoping he was half as good at disguising thoughts as Tony could be. At moments like this, Tony’s eyes glazed over to nothingness and his facial expression gave little away. The deception, a mask, shouldn’t have made his heart start to pound in his chest, but Steve’s body was well past reacting to what it should and shouldn’t.
Steve had been sitting over at the bench and had some kind of plan when he came down here. He always had some semblance of a plan, but maybe Tony was wearing off on him a little. “I can’t come down here without a reason?”
Tony tilted his head to the side, pursing his mouth in this picture of confusion. “If you want to.”
“Maybe I wanted to get to know you better.” Steve supplied instead, the words coming off overly defensively.
“I thought snap judgments were more your style,” Tony finally joked, fiddling with the cap of his bottle and not drinking it yet. “Suit yourself, Rogers. What did you want to know?”
“To know?”
“About me.” Tony’s face began to tug up into a half-smile that was a little bit mischievous, a little bit self-deprecating. “You know how I like to talk about myself.”
“Do you work out?” Came out of his mouth before Steve knew how to pull the breaks.
“Do I-” If he’d looked confused before it had only gotten worse. He paused as what Steve said fully sank it. Then he started laughing, the kind of laugh where you throw your head back and the sound of it reverberates throughout the room. “If it was anyone, but you asking that Cap.” And then continued to laugh.
He wasn’t doing any good at hiding his fluster or the sinking feeling of dread either. “I just meant,” Steve gestured at him.
“We’ve got very physical jobs, Steve,” Tony continued to tease, smile growing.
“I was just curious what your regimen was,” he muttered, irritation flaring up. There Tony went poking repeatedly at button Steve would rather didn’t exist at all.
“Looking for some pointers Cap?” Tony continued, finally bringing the water to his mouth the pull of it reflecting in the muscles of his throat. When he pulled the bottle away he ran his tongue against his bottle lip, collecting every drop of moisture there. “I don’t think you have to worry about me catching up with you anytime soon.” Steve crossed his arms across his chest and gave Tony a hard stare. “It’s mostly from all the work I do in the workshop… And manning the Iron Man suit. You wouldn’t believe the kind of core muscles you need to really control the suit. Boxing with Happy.”
“To control the suit?” Steve asked, eyes flickering down to Tony’s abdomen and then abruptly up. He was wearing one of his band t-shirts that didn’t do anything for anywhere besides his arms.
“Well, I haven’t gotten to a point with my technology where it can read my mind. Giving constant verbal commands would be exhausting and would slow down my reaction time. So instead it reads my body's cues and follows through with it. It’s pretty necessary when flying it in particular.” Tony smiled and shrugged. “In the case anything happens in the field where… The suit wasn’t working I need to at least be able to drag it and myself home.”
Steve unwittingly glanced between one of the suits on display and Tony. Not sure where his brain was going with all of this. “And you box?”
“Long before becoming Iron Man. I’ve learned that when you’re a hated weapons manufacture it can be prudent to know how to defend yourself. I’ve actually been looking to expand on that. I was going to ask Natasha, but since you’re here…” He trailed off and gesturing directly at Steve.
“You want me to help you with boxing?” Steve asked.
“No. Not that, hand-to-hand combat. I hear you’re something of an expert.” When Steve didn’t immediately reply the sense of awkwardness set in a little further. “You know, in the effort of getting to know each other better. ”
Steve rolled his eyes at that. “Sure. When would you like to?” He questioned against his better judgment.
Tony made a movement with his hand that caused a blue screen to light up his section of the room. He continued with the various hand gestures, scrolling past glowing images until he came to a stop where he wanted. “How’s Thursday. 8 pm not too late for you?”
Steve was nodding. “That works,” still nodding as if he had left his ability to socialize back in the ice. What was left was someone who knew how to make a battle plan, but not a conversation with the man that he would go to bed thinking about.
“I’m going to keep working on the car,” Tony began, looking at Steve thoughtfully again. “Are you going to go or stare at me some more?” It was clear that he was tamping down a smile, the flirting a joke.
It took everything in Steve’s power to not turn red and just shrug. He really should have had enough control not to say the next thing that came out of his mouth… But his ability to not appear flustered didn’t extend much farther. “I’m not staring. I was just thinking about sketching.” His hands having a mind of their own when they gestured at Tony.
That caused Tony’s eyes to light up. “Me? Really?” There was a hefty amount of doubt there. “From what I’ve seen you do a lot of caricatures and landscapes.”
“From what you’ve seen?” Steve asked, trying to tease.
“You really have been down here a lot more often.” Tony was looking at him too intently. “Well, you couldn’t have asked for a better model.” A little bluster and a fake smile sent Steve’s way. It wasn’t like his real laughter, but still fairly effective. “Gonna paint me like one of your French girls?”
Steve frowned. “I don’t have any French girls.” That got a real round of laughter out of Tony, it seemed to stretch into eternity. “I take it that’s a reference.”
“The Titanic. You should watch it.”
Steve liked the way the lines of his face folded when he smiled like that. “The boat?” He asked, imbuing as much doubt as he could into those two words.
“The movie. We have made an art out of making even the most aggressive of tragedies seem romantic, haven’t we?” The laughter had taken on a somewhat sardonic edge. “But really, loads of pop culture references in that one. The movie itself is okay.”
“I’ll put it on the list,” Steve commented, mostly for Tony’s benefit as he seemed particularly delighted when Steve added any of his suggestions to his list of things he needed to absorb to better understand modern times.
“You do that. You’re free to do whatever you want down here Cap. You’re good at staying out of the way.”
Feeling like he’d been given more than permission to stick around, Steve found himself dealing with butterflies and an overindulgent smile on his own face. That melted into something else when Tony bent over to rearrange his tool. He swallowed and decided that even with a Tony Stark seal of approval maybe he’d better get going after all.
Tony didn’t comment when Steve came down with a sketch pad the next day or any of the days following. In fact, Steve thought he might have reveled in the attention of it. Tony had been right in that portraits weren’t his usual area of expertise, but he could make exceptions. Dozens of exceptions apparently. It wasn’t hard when Tony was back in the undershirt again and pants that slung so low on his waist that sometimes when he moved Steve could see the deep definition that led out of sight…
He may end up having to take Nat up on her offer to set him up on a date if the growing tension curling up inside of him was any indicator. There was going to be some tipping point where he embarrassed himself in front of the self-proclaimed playboy. Tony walked over his way, stretching so that the little light in the workshop caught on his skin perfectly. Steve closed his sketchbook closed with a loud thump.
“Not allowed to see my own pretty face, Steve?” He questioned, curiously pointing toward the book.
“They’re very rough,” Steve replied, having gotten better at the art of masking his emotions come across as uninterested. There weren’t very many of Tony’s face in there anyway. Maybe a couple of when he shot Steve that quiet, blank assessing look that was all out of sorts with the constant motion and posturing of his. It made Steve feel like he was a project that was carefully being dissected and put together in Tony’s mind. He wasn’t sure he’d minded that.
“Nothing wrong with really rough.” Tony had backed away, but he still felt like the only presence in Steve’s space bubble. His eyes were usually warm, but sometimes they went to the side of burning. It was all part of the image he put on, but maybe Steve should have been sketching his face more often too.
“I’m sure some prefer it,” Steve replied, letting it hang in the air and wishing he could inhale it back into his lungs. Tony was smiling, but that was the one in front of him. The one in his mind was demonstrating how there was really nothing wrong with rough. Pushing and pulling Steve exactly where he wanted him to be. “But no, not today.” This was getting out of hand.
Tony nodded, appearing lost his thoughts again. “Still on for hand-to-hand tomorrow?”
“My schedule’s still open.” It was said with all the casualness of a high schooler being asked by their crush what they were doing on February 14th. Tony wasn’t a crush. Just someone Steve found aesthetically pleasing. He tried to bite back the sense of shame he thought he’d gotten a handle on back in the forties.
“Good, I probably shouldn’t be looking forward to getting my ass kicked.” Steve forced himself into joining Tony in his laughter.
It only took twenty minutes for the tone of their session to change from lighthearted to annoyed. On Tony’s part at least, he was leveling Steve with something only a few steps below an outright glare.
“Why are you taking it easy on me?” Tony ground out. Tony was leaning against the ropes, neither of them was struggling for breath. He had on this ridiculous color-coordinated jumpsuit. Steve could see a hint of black undershirt from where the zipper had been pulled down. That and a collarbone. Some people were born with something extra. Whatever forces at work that had put together Tony Stark had not only given him all of that intelligence but made him unfairly beautiful to look at as well.
It was a good question to be asking. Steve was behaving distractedly, enough so that Tony was starting to pick up that it wasn’t Steve’s reflexes that had gone off on vacation but his decision-making skills. He’d started their time together by asking Tony to demonstrate his skills. Perhaps being a little too slow when Tony’s gloved fists knocked repeatedly into his shoulder. He’d stumbled back a step the first time, causing Tony’s eyes to widen and apologies to tumble out of his mouth. It hadn’t even hurt, not really, but it had still left Steve a little bit breathless. His mind a goner for the rest of the meeting. Tony hadn’t been putting all his force behind it, but it’d still be enough.
There had been a few more of those incidents as Tony sparred and Steve sometimes dodged… Sometimes didn’t. Each hit he landed had Tony’s eyes narrowing more and more before he’d finally taken a step back and asked that.
“I thought I was supposed to be learning.”
“I needed a good assessment of the base level of your skills.” Lying was getting easier, but Steve didn’t think Tony was falling for it. A gloved hand was on his hip, his face not giving much away besides the occasional wave of annoyance.
“I think you’ve gotten my level. Besides, I know how to box. Teach me something new Cap. We’re getting to know each other remember?” The last words were said teasingly and Steve sighed, acquiescing.
Tony knew how to throw a punch and had the basic steps down, defensively there were some definite holes that Steve could have been exploiting if he was putting the barest amount of effort in. Tony didn’t use his legs or lower half of his body offensively at all. Knowing how to hit was great, but his style was blunt and straightforward. There was room for finesse that introducing some other fighting style could benefit. Steve figured bulking up his defensive maneuvers first would be the best call.
Tony had one-liner after one-liner and Steve would have thought he wasn’t paying attention if it weren’t for the way he was able to almost perfectly replicate any move Steve demonstrated within a few minutes of being shown it. A few serious rallies in had Tony on the ground, his smiling energy was infectious and Steve couldn’t help grinning a little too victoriously. A smile that was wiped off when Tony stripped out of his jacket, bounding back up to his feet. Steve pretended like he needed a drink of water to minimize the inappropriate feelings making a resurgence.
“Smile now Cap. We’re going to do this again with the Iron Man suit and it will be me slamming your ass onto the floor. Just wait.” It was all mock threatening, but Steve had seen Tony put off a Norse God using that suit. He couldn’t help it, imagining all the additional strength it would lend in being able to hold Steve in place. Steve would have to put in real effort, but maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would just go with whatever Tony wanted him to do. His blood couldn’t decide if it wanted to go up or down. Steve took a few deep breaths, willing himself not to get hard.
“Can’t keep up Steve?” Tony still there, still taunting. Hands in his pockets, grinning at Steve and not realizing the internal battle Steve was having with all of this. “We can end it here if you’re getting too tired. I know stuff that comes in a bottle can have an expiration date.”
Tony’s snarkiness and big mouth were helping, kind of. Steve rolled his eyes. “Shut up Stark.”
“Aye, aye Rogers. Where do you want me?” Over him, behind him, pick your poison. The way Tony sometimes spoke while directing his gaze from behind criminally long eyelashes should be illegal.
Steve ran a hand over the side of his face and back through his hair. Tony was doing that thing where he was being too quiet. It was worse than he was speaking. It usually meant he was absorbing some piece of information Steve would rather he went without and could then strategize what to do with it. “Do you know any holds?”
It wasn’t something incorporated into boxing, but Tony surprised Steve by nodding. “One or two. They could use some work though.”
Steve set the water bottle back on the side of the rink. “Show me.”
“Pretend like you want to hit me then.”
“Pretend?”
Tony snorted. “I figured you’d have decked me by now if that’s what you were going for. Come on Cap, pick apart my technique.”
Steve extended a cross at a speed he knew Tony could handle. In a surprisingly quick movement, he had Steve turned around, arm pinned around his back. Tony pressed up against him with his free arm applying light pressure around Steve’s throat. The whole thing was littered with technicals errors and would have been easy for Steve to step away from if he could remember how to breathe. Tony wasn’t putting in any real effort to hold him in place, but just the idea of it, had him losing the flimsy battled he’d been waging against his body. He could feel himself getting hard with every careful breath Tony’s chest pressed against him.
“Not half bad, right Rogers?” Steve could sense the careful consideration as Tony tightened the hold minutely. Instead of responding to the question a noise escaped his mouth that was somewhere between a groan and moan.
Tony dropped his arm in a hurry while Steve scrambled to get away from him. Face burning in a wave of humiliation that he’d never experienced before.
“Sorry, Steve. Are you okay? I didn’t- I didn’t hurt you, right?” He couldn’t pay attention to the concern in Tony’s voice, Steve’s thoughts were spiraling rapidly.
What the fuck was wrong with him? Why had he even agreed to this in the first place? Steve had his hands braced against the ropes, faced away from Tony. Trying to find enough will to leave before he was completely found out. He was supposed to be Captain America now, he should find all of this… He should be more professional, Tony was his colleague. They’d finally built up some kind of foundation of trust and this is what he was doing with it? He’d never done anything this stupid before, never even been tempted to. He couldn’t understand that now, with the serum turning him into someone strong enough to break bones with ease, that he still wanted this.
“Steve?” Tony was standing there, gently trying to turn Steve around by his shoulder and only half succeeding. “Should I get a medic?” The question tapered off as Tony got a good look at Steve’s bright red face, the heavy breathing and the growing erection in his shorts. “Steve,” he began again, much more quietly.
“Sorry. I’m going to have to cut this session short. I’ve got another thing that I have to get ready for. If you have any question just-” Steve cut himself off, not even sure where that was heading. He half expected Tony to make several comments to dig Steve in deeper all the while flattering himself. Instead, there was silence. He almost thought he heard his name being called when he entered the elevator, but there would be no turning back to check.
Steve slammed his door behind himself. Wishing he could go back to a simpler time, where he didn’t have to wrestle with who he knew to be himself with who everyone else saw him to be. Steve dragged himself over to his bathroom, running the cold water and splashing it in his face. The coolness dripping down his face and along his neck did nothing to abate his erection in the slightest.
The knock at the door shouldn’t have come as surprise, cause a new rush of adrenaline through him. Steve debated ignoring it, but he hadn’t locked the door when he came in. All it would take is someone, Tony, pushing down on the handle to stride right inside. He’d rather this confrontation be on his terms. Steve had barely pushed the handle before Tony was easing his way into his space. Past the front door like he knew Steve was about to give him an excuse to shut it again.
“Captain,” Tony acknowledged when walking into the entryway, casting his eyes around the room.
“Mr. Stark,” Steve responded. It came out stronger because of the agitation he got from Tony invading his rooms. “Do you regularly barge your way into people’s personal quarters?”
“Only when they want me there,” Tony said automatically. Coming to a stop next to Steve, but not quite looking at him yet. “Done a lot with the place.”
“Are you here to criticize my decorating?” Steve asked, put off foot by the quiet, energy radiating off him. “Let’s not forget I’ve seen the stripper pole in your private jet.”
A smirk pulled up one side of Tony’s face, before settling back to a straight line. “Funny, but no. Why’d you run away Steve? You’ve been running away for days.”
Steve folded his arms over his chest. “I haven’t run away from anything.”
Tony surprised him by walking further away to fiddle with a vase he hadn't even put in the hallway. It was Tony’s decorating team that’d done it, and Steve didn’t yet feel at home enough to get rid of it. “Really? I’m a problem solver. I get paid a lot of money to help fix things. Do you have a problem, Steve?” He might have been offended by the use of the word problem if it wasn’t for the way Tony’s eyes dragged over him, stopping short at the front of his workout pants.
“No, problems here,” Steve ground out stubbornly. The non-existent problem in question went from slowly going away to rising under Tony’s attention.
“Huh. Because I distinctly recall you eye-fucking me every day this week and then tucking tail and running back to your room when I get anywhere near to acknowledging it.”
Steve swallowed, the sound audible for both of them in the small space. “I wasn’t-”
“I thought it was cute. Then kind of hot, honestly. The way you suck at lying is pretty wholesome.” Tony chuckled, and it was different than all the variations of laughter that he heard from him before. Darker, shorter, an undercurrent to it. “The second you left I’d have my hand wrapped around my cock thinking about you. Is that what you’re doing running up here? Getting yourself off thinking about me?”
A pin could have dropped and Steve would have thanked it. Anything to interrupt the rising tension. “I’m not wholesome.” It was close enough to the truth that it had Steve’s face flushing, him fidgeting in his skin.
“Why because you like boys too? I don’t care. The majority of people don’t care nowadays. The ones that do should be ashamed. But there’s nothing for you to be ashamed of here.”
Steve snorted at that. It wasn’t what he was worried about, not exactly, but there was something comforting in Tony’s attempt at assuaging his concerns. “Hardly. It may have been the forties, but it was still art school in Brooklyn, Tony.”
“Yeah? I wish I could have been there to see that.” He was laughing that way again, where it didn’t feel like laughter at all, but a prelude to something more. “Or maybe not. Did you stare at all the boys and girls this way? Like you wanted them to tear your clothes off but were too afraid to ask.”
Tony wasn’t even in touching distance, but it didn’t matter. It felt like he was touching him, like he was stirring up feelings he didn’t even want to bother controlling anymore. Steve could feel himself shudder. “No.”
“No, you didn’t or no you aren’t afraid to ask nicely. I’ll do whatever you want… If you ask.” Tony was done fiddling with the vase, edging back into Steve’s space and he could see it now. That it hadn’t been all of the stupid arrogant quick wit that got him the useless title of playboy, but the intensity in which he could make you feel like the only person in an orbit that must have had hundreds.
Steve shifted. “Are you done messing around with me Stark?” Because that’s all this was. He was getting a rise out of Steve and would leave him.
Tony shrugged and made an open gesture with his hands. “That depends on you.”
Steve wet his bottom lip. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Tony was interested in having sex with him. Maybe he was flirting with him, but that didn’t mean they wanted the same things. “I don’t want anything,” felt a lot easier than any potential rejection.
“So if I stepped a little closer. Shoved you back. You wouldn’t like that?”
He may as well have just swallowed his tongue, arms falling back to his size and his posture sinking towards the floor. “I-”
“You thought I didn’t notice that? I’m not nearly as oblivious as you think I am Steve. I could push you around.” Tony was smirking and Steve was starting to realize he no longer had to pretend like that didn’t do anything for him. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it enough times.”
Steve’s exhale came out in a whoosh of air. The statement liberating and maybe he shouldn’t be getting his liberation from another person, but it hardly mattered in that moment. He was malleable in Tony’s hands and wanted to put himself there.
“Have you thought about it, Steve?” The way he asked, as if he was in a place of casual indifference.
“Yes,” he said before the question could even be finished. “Yes. All the time.”
How Tony’s face lit up should have been a reward all on its own. “Yeah, you do. I can picture it. You. On the bed in there. All the time, saying my name. But I want to see it in person. Can I?” Tony had stepped right up next to them, barely not touching. His hands a phantom as they traced the air past his abdomen and up to his neckline. Tony was several inches shorter, had to look up into Steve’s face.
He made sure his words were measured, showing none of the ways he felt like all of the desire from the past weeks had reached a boiling point. In that, if he waited another minute Steve wasn’t sure what would happen. What snapping would look like. “I want you… And whatever you want to do to me.”
There was a flash of a grin and Steve thought Tony might kiss him. He didn’t. Instead shoving a hand up against his chest, forcing him to step back. His knees to buckle. Only to be saved when he did it again, this time forcing Steve against the hallway wall.
“Take off your shirt Steve. With the way you’ve been ogling me as if you’d seen me naked before, I think it is only fair.” The flush of embarrassment only ratcheted up the urgency in which Steve pulled his shirt up and over his head.
Tony’s tell, the way he slowly traced inside of his bottom lip with his tongue. He reached out a hand tracing it over Steve’s chest, over his nipple, downward. Steve tilted his head back, just letting the sensation of Tony’s hands on him wash over his body.
“Here’s how this can go. I’m going to push you down onto your knees. Choke you on my cock. Drag you to your bed, open you up. Tease you as much as I want and you’re going to let me. If you need to stop just say the word and I’ll stop. If you can’t speak a two-finger tap to my hip,” Tony demonstrated tapping his hip in rapid succession, “And I’ll stop. Are you okay with that.”
“Yes.”
“We’ll figure out a more detailed system after,” Tony said, sighing, fingers still trailing aimless, frustrating patterns above Steve’s waistline.
“Later?” Steve questioned, not enough hormones flooding his system to stop it from coming out in a snarky tone.
“If you want to do this again. Which, you will. Probably.” Steve huffed out a scoff.
“Big talk Stark.”
Tony shrugged. “What can I say? You’re an easy read, and I’m confident.” Tony’s hand had come down on his shoulder. The calluses always there from hours after hours of hard work. They were rough against the naked skin of his shoulder, the strength downward consistent. Steve dropped to his knees with an audible thump that had Tony frowning. It was hard to pay attention to anything beyond the way Tony was tenting his workout pants right in front of his face.
“Easy there Cap.” Tony hands trailed up from his shoulder, along his neck. It dipped closer to his mouth, hooking his finger there for a moment, wetting the tip, taking stock. Steve opened his mouth wider only for Tony’s hand to continue its ascent past his cheekbone and up in his hair. He tugged softly. Eyes all pupils and dark promises when Steve gasped. Tony tugged again, hard enough for him to really feel it. “Does that hurt too much?”
“No.”
Tony hummed back confirmation, tightening his grip even further. He brought Steve against the front of his pants, where the heat of his hard length could be felt even through the fabric. Steve didn’t need prompting to start mouthing the shape of Tony’s cock through his pants. Pressing his tongue against it, sucking more the more Tony ground forward. Not stop until the fabric was left with a dark stain and he could get a hint of bitterness on his tongue.
“Fuck,” it came from above. “Look at you. God damn.” Tony took a step back from him and Steve whined in response. Tony took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling. “Stand up.” Steve complied even while being confused. “We’re mixing up the order a little. Take off your pants, briefs, all of it.”
Steve legs may as well have been the consistency of jelly as he kicked off his pants, briefs, all of it into a mess of a pile that he’d normally feel the need to fold neater. The only compulsion he obeyed was watching Tony take off his jacket and shirt. He dug through his jacket until he had something curled up in the center of his palm.
“Back down,” Tony said, not bothering to raise his voice. It wasn’t particularly commanding, but Tony said it so it cracked like a whip against Steve’s mind and he was back down in an instant. They took each other in, there were scars along Tony’s chest and the glow of the arc reactor could have been startling if he wasn’t expecting it. Steve was though and found it as beautiful as the rest of the strength Tony’s body radiated with calm purpose. Evidence of all that core strength Tony said needed for the Iron Man suit there within touching distance.
“Human perfection,” Tony mused, hand on the top of his sweatpants. “I’d almost have to agree. You’ll look even better with your lips wrapped around my cock. Don’t you agree?”
Steve’s mouth fell open in place of a verbal answer that had Tony smiling like he’d done the most pleasing action the world. He didn’t push his pants down farther, instead tossing an object Steve caught only thanks to his reflexes. Steve stared at the thing bottle of lubricant.
“A super-soldier can get themselves ready while sucking dick. Right, Steve?” Tony asked finally getting those pants away. His cock bobbing the air, causing Steve to salivate at only the sight.
“Yes, Tony.” He breathed, opening the cap and liberally coating his fingers with lubricant. Steve liked the way Tony’s mouth fell open the smallest bit. The way his fist pumped himself while watching Steve’s hand snake back around to his hole. How he smirked when Steve whimpered as he first circled his rim.
Tony stroked himself unhurriedly in front of Steve’s face until that first finger was pushed past the ring of muscle. When Steve opened his mouth to moan Tony was there, insistent, slowing feeding his cock until it reached the back of Steve’s throat. Pulling back when he gagged around it only to persistently push forward again. The pace gradually climbing, it was with the second finger that Tony regained his purchase on Steve’s hair. Tugging harshly as he jacked his hips in quick thrusts. It was then that Steve realized he had nowhere to go, stuck between the wall and Tony fucking into his mouth like he’d never get tired of it.
Tony started punctuating every few thrusts by holding Steve’s head down and choking him there just like he said he would. Steve was sloppily going to work at himself, barely able to pay attention to what he was doing past the salty bitter taste of Tony’s skin and the way he lowly groaned out his name. Tony did it again and again, holding Steve down a little longer each time until Steve was helplessly gasping every time he pulled out.
When Tony stepped back Steve could only whimper. Reaching out for him to come closer, because this wasn’t close enough. “You’re so good,” Tony said at almost a whisper. “Who would have thought,” he continued, regaining his breath, his composure. “Captain America would be such a good boy, such a good slut.” There went the hand tightening in his hair again, this time bringing Steve up to shaky feet, him moaning like Tony’s words were touches. Tony tugged him forward so that they were eye to eye. “There you are.”
He didn’t know what that meant, just was relieved at the way Tony sealed his mouth over his. How Tony kept pushing and pulling and wouldn’t stop even when Steve was stumbling towards his bedroom. He, in turn, was touching and grabbing at every inch of skin Tony let him, and Tony let him touch everywhere. The sensation going to his head, because Tony was exactly what he thought. All skin and strength and so human, he was the physical peak of human perfection. He tried to tell him as much, but Tony just stretched Steve’s mouth open wider, pushed harder. Steve felt his knees hitting against the edge of his bed, it was the only thing to stop Tony from devouring him altogether.
Tony took a step back, surveying him, coming up with some kind of strategy that anyone else would call reckless. Steve could do with a little recklessness. Tony’s face was flushed and his hair in a messy disarray that Steve had never seen before, but wanted to claim was all his doing. “Get on the bed. Wait, no.” Tony took a deep breath, tracing his bottom lip again. He extended a hand in almost slow motion before giving Steve a hard shove so he fell back onto the bed. The smirk on his face knowing that it was all done for the gasp that left Steve’s lips.
“You can’t be real,” Tony sounded more in disbelief than how Steve felt, trying to mentally retrace his steps to how this had happened. How Steve didn’t care and there was no clear path and maybe he was lost… And that was okay because Tony was giving him new directives and he found he liked that more than Steve had ever imagined he would. “On your knees. Hands up on the headboard.”
Steve hurrying into position because this had always been building to what came next. To Tony knocking his knees apart so he was open for him. Tony’s quick inhale when he traced his thumb over his entrance, pushing it in experimentally. He dug his fingers into Steve’s hips when Steve started squirming at the stretch at the finger moving relentlessly inside of him.
“Is this what you were thinking back in the gym Steve?” One of Tony’s hands coming to cover the one he had dug into the headboard. He could feel Tony dragging his cock past his hole, but not pushing forward yet.
“Fuck Tony.”
“Kind of what I was going for, but if I could get some clarification.”
He knew Tony couldn’t see the way his face turned bright, but that didn’t stop him from ducking his head down and pushing his ass higher in the air. “I was thinking about you fucking me. I still am.” The second was meant to come out as a complaint about the pacing, but it only sounded like praise.
The hand that was clasped over his moved into his hair, yanking his head back so that he could hear Tony say lowly by his ear, “That’s right you were.”
The cracked fractured sounds leaving his mouth turned into a whine then Tony shoved himself forward, cock pushing past his hole. Even with the mixture of saliva and lube from his prepping, it was a tight fit, Tony moving his hips slowly before really getting into the rhythm. Grinding into Steve as if he was an easy read and Tony knew him line by line. Tony’s hand on Steve’s, pulling him back for each thrust, murmuring filthy praise above him. Pressing into his prostate with the practiced ease that had Steve shouting. The slap of flesh against flesh causing everything to wind tighter and tighter until it felt like something might break.
The something being a piece of the wooden headboard, splintering but not completely crumbling under the increased pressure Steve had been applying with his hands. Instead of stopping that only seemed to spur Tony on. Moving his cock hard and faster into Steve with a shaky moan. Steve could only groan loudly under the constant assault.
“Fuck, hands down. Jesus Steve.”
Steve released the headboard from where his hands had been making imprints into the wood. Dropping down to his elbows only to feel Tony’s finger around the back of his neck, shoving him down further into the sheets. His other hand gripping harder into Steve’s hips hauling them up so he could pound into him.
“Yeah Steve, no choice but to take it right? Just like you like it?” Tony was rambling as his movement grew more urgent.
It was framed as a question, but he knew. It was those words that brought into focus that Tony was everywhere. Draped over him, holding him in place for every thrust forward, every drag of his cock inside of him. Steve perfectly at the mercy of whatever Tony wanted to do to him. A litany of yes was falling from his lips as Steve came all over the sheets untouched except for where Tony was still thrusting in and out of him. Steve clutched at the sheets, more moans falling as he coated his abdomen and the bedspread below them with his come. Tony kept fucking him through his orgasm, pulling out when hypersensitivity had Steve scrambling to get both closer and farther from him. Steve could hear rather than see Tony pumping himself, a loud groan the only other hint before Tony was coming, all over his ass and lower back.
The sound their panting became the backdrop as they tried to chase down where their breath had gone. Tony collapsed down onto the bed beside him and Steve righted himself so he was on his side. Watching Tony watch the ceiling, eyes bright and lazily contented smile on his face. Tony’s brown gaze flicked over to his, noticing him. How long had Tony been noticing Steve for and how hadn’t he seen it before?
“Hey there Cap.” Tony turned on his side to face him fully so that with every one of his exhales Steve was breathing him in. He didn’t find he minded that or the playful way Tony pressed in even closer.
“Tony,” his name coming out as a contented sigh.
Tony pushed his hair back off of his face and Steve could admit, it was cute. Tony Stark was capable of being cute, of causing his heart to pick up its pace in his chest. “We should do that again sometime,” he said.
Steve found himself snorting. “Not one for a cool-down are you?”
“We could always cuddle instead.” It didn’t sound like the worst idea either even if it was meant as a joke.
“Yeah,” Steve said, forcing the words that were stuck in his throat out. Smiling when they were out to be grabbed from the air. “Yeah, we should do that again sometime.”
The answering smile had those butterflies back and Steve wanting to say it again and again. “Good. Now get over here.” Tony tugged on Steve so he was no longer sitting next to him, but laying half on top of him. Tony’s arms tightening around his shoulder in a grip that would be easy enough to break, but instead Steve sunk deeper into it. maybe he was an easy read, and Tony was the first one to come around who’d bothered opening the pages. He had never really done… This part before, but Steve found he was more than okay with it.