Chapter Text
Tony.
Was.
Pissed .
He stormed through the beautiful Four Seasons Montreal on a warpath, barely cognizant of all the fine features – marbled floors and expensive glass panels and gold gilding. Even if he hadn’t been seething, the fact that he wasn’t put up in such accommodations – and hadn’t been since he wore his own last name on his employee badge – wouldn’t have bothered him. Tony was too old to feel bitter, but he wasn’t too old to be petty about the fact that he was born and raised in luxury and categorically refused to bat an eye or allow himself to feel impressed when presented with it.
But now, livid as he was? It only added to his anger, that Banner would be rewarded like this. The kid was all of twenty-three and clearly possessed the maturity of a child half that age – handing him this kind of opulence and telling him he deserved it was only asking for trouble. Or at least an ego the size of most small continents – and it wasn’t like Tony didn’t know from personal experience.
And maybe that was why Tony had to be the one to put him in his fucking place. Fury sure as fuck wasn’t about to do shit after Ross handed Banner his Super License on a silver fucking platter and neither was Rhodes and his ridiculously naive “he’s young, he’ll figure it out” approach. He loved Rhodes – he did – but he was practically the oldest guy on the track and Tony was pretty damn sure his impending retirement didn’t really aid his investiture in their new teammate.
Still – Rhodes’ retirement wasn’t something Tony wanted to think too hard about, especially not as worked up as he was right now. Hiring Banner was a huge, insurmountable fucking mistake in Tony’s mind. If Ross chose to hire another inexperienced fledgling and promote Banner to team lead and Tony was required to be Banner’s race engineer – well. Fuck contracts and fuck loyalty. He’d given the best eight years of his life to Ross Racing, but he’d turn on his heel and walk right out the goddamn door.
When he finally reached Banner’s executive suite on the twelfth floor – a room number that Tony never should have gotten, demanded in not so thinly veiled threats from Banner’s flustered personal assistant – he pounded on the door, not really giving a shit if he woke up the whole damned floor.
It was one thing for Tony to take a driver’s pissy, egotistical bullshit – he might not have been Banner’s race engineer but he was the lead engineer, the most senior engineer in the garage, number two in line after Fury – so it was part of his job, came with the territory. But his team ? Fuck no. Especially behind his back. Especially when it wasn’t even remotely warranted.
Banner took plenty of time coming to the door and when he answered he was in nothing but a pair of tight briefs and a silken hotel robe, holding a glass of dark liquor. He stared at Tony in obvious confusion as Tony stared back, momentarily shocked into silence by pillow-mused hair and the long, lean limbs he knew existed beneath the requisite driver’s uniform and the tailored suits and polos he normally saw Banner in but never let himself think too much about. But then this really smarmy smile spread across Banner’s lips as he leaned into the doorframe, pitching his eyebrows up expectantly, and instantly Tony’s anger was back and burning in his gut.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you , but I’m not picky,” he said but Tony barely registered it as he pointed an angry finger in his direction, just shy of stabbing him in the chest.
“Fuck you,” he spat and watched as Banner blinked, somehow surprised by that.
“ Excuse me?” Banner asked, straightening up in the doorway, his brows furrowing now and that was better.
Tony didn’t come here for some idle chit-chat and a nightcap. Tony came here looking for a fight. After the first three months of the season which amounted to six weeks together, six race weekends, six weeks of watching Banner storm around the garage like a petulant brat, demanding things be his way, saying shit just to rile up the press, being escorted out of sponsorship parties before shit got too dicey – Tony sure as hell knew Banner could dish out a fight.
“I said ‘ fuck you ’,” Tony repeated, stepping forward into his space so that Banner had to step back, forcing them backwards into the room as the door shut heavy behind them.
It was one thing for Banner to end up with bad press, but Tony was supposed to be above that. He sure as hell wasn’t about to jeopardize any more of Ross’ image with a team related fight in a hotel hallway.
“You will never, ever treat my team like that again,” Tony growled, the possessive firebrand hot in his gut as he thought about the look Parker gave him when he came in after a late meeting with Fury, asking why the hell everyone was acting like old man Ross himself had just died.
He’d held back for six weeks, held back and bit his tongue and let Banner be a moody little bitch, listened to Rhodes and kept his cool for the sake of the team, watched Banner wrack up points on his license so early in the season with stupid, inexperienced mistakes and knew that he’d fuck himself over eventually without anyone needing to intervene. But going after his team was over the line and Tony might have had fifteen years of maturity on Banner, but he wasn't exactly a mild-mannered guy himself. It was only a matter of time before he fucking snapped.
Banner’s angry confusion slipped into a cutting smirk as he stepped away, trying to reinforce his physical control of the situation after having just been forced back into his room by Tony. He set the glass of liquor down on the bureau a little too hard as he turned, spreading his arms, looking fucking magnificant backlit by the skyscrapers of Montreal through the floor to ceiling windows and the open door of the terrace – all cocky self-confidence and youthful fucking indiscretion.
“ Your team?” he asked with a laugh that Tony wanted to strangle shut. “Last I checked, they all work for me.”
“Drivers are a goddamned dime a dozen,” Tony shot back cruelly, stepping forward again and staring down at him as best he could despite the fact that they were evenly matched for height. “You keep playing my cards right and even after all that money Ross spent on you, you’ll be gone next season just like that –” Tony snapped his fingers loud to make his point but Banner didn’t flinch “– and no one will fucking touch you.
“But Danvers? Romanoff? Parker? That whole team you called – what was it? Moronic, lazy, ass-backward pieces of shit?” That did seem to surprise him though as his eyes widened ever so slightly and Tony pressed forward again, grinning – though it wasn’t very nice. “Yeah, I watched the fucking video. Don’t worry – they won’t be hurting for work when you're gone.”
The video was not flattering, even for a man who’d recently had a lot of unflattering press. Banner had carried the steering wheel of his car across the garage and flung it, smashing it into a workstation, only missing Parker by a couple feet, and then launched into an unsavory tirade about the condition of the suspension that included one full scale table wipe that Tony was fairly sure Banner would have flipped had it not been bolted down.
“They will be if they don’t get that fucking suspension fixed,” Banner snapped, the reminder of his shitty free practice session clearly reigniting his frustration.
“You’ve been bitching about that fucking suspension since you got here but that just makes you sound like the inexperienced little shitstain you are,” Tony replied with an air of superiority that was unmistakeable, watching as Banner puffed up with anger. “How long have you been driving for? A year? Two? You never even finished the requisite points.”
“You know as well as anyone that it’s hard as fuck to qualify in American races with the new rules,” Banner interrupted snottily and that reaction only made Tony swell with pleasure at having obviously hit a sore spot.
“You’ve never driven one of our cars though – our suspension is different than the old system still used by Ferrari, than Mercades’ new one. It might not be as comfy for you, my dear, sweet summer child,” Tony simpered, letting the words fall like acid between them, “but it corners better than any other fucking car on the track. Which you’d fucking know if you’d logged more than a couple hundred miles in my goddamn machine.”
Banner rolled his eyes gratuitously and it really struck a chord with Tony, almost eager to see what kind of pithy rebuttal he thought he could make in the face of hard fucking facts – but he wasn’t expecting what came out of Banner’s mouth then.
“Like you’d fucking know what it felt like – you logged how many hours before you gave up ? I don’t think you were any closer to your license than me,” he snipped, clearly unaware that Tony’s own former bid at racing when Banner was practically still in fucking diapers was not on the goddamn table.
“You fucking think you know shit about me ?” Tony hissed, stepping closer – though this time Banner held his ground, didn’t let himself be forced back through the open terrace door.
“Yeah,” Banner snapped back, an unearthly glint in his eye that made Tony swallow around his anger as Banner’s lips curled deliciously around the words formulating in his mouth, “and what I think is that your daddy was so goddamn disappointed with you that he fired you from his own damn team.”
“Oh you fucking –” was all Tony got out before he punched him in the face.
Or he would have punched him in the face had Banner’s reflexes not been so ungodly fast and he grabbed his wrist, holding it until Tony jerked it away.
“You think because you’re making some money and you got team sponsors now that you know shit about anything?” Tony snarled as he reached out and shoved Banner’s chest. “You don’t know shit about me and you don’t know shit about racing.”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Banner warned lowly but Tony reached out and shoved him again.
“We’re supposed to be a team you fucking cunt .”
It wasn’t something Tony had meant to say – not something that mean – but Banner had pushed him right past the line of what he felt was reasonable with such an unjustified personal attack. This time though, when he shoved him again, Banner stepped forward and shoved him right back – hard. So hard Tony found that he was the one forced to take a step back.
“And this is what teammates do?” Banner shot back sarcastically.
“When one of them’s being a fucking cunt ,” Tony ground out and he stepped forward again to shove him and then Banner fucking lost it.
Tony thought Banner had been angry before, but it was nothing like this. His heart was in his fucking throat as Banner glared daggers at him, grabbing him by the shirt, balling it in his fists, and shoving him straight back into the wall.
“I told you not to fucking touch me,” Banner said before Tony’s back hit drywall and he felt the thud through his whole chest, dumbed for a moment into staring into those dark brown eyes.
He had that whole cute-puppy-dog-eyed thing going for him and it was really goddamn misleading, Tony thought, as he took a moment to catch his breath before kneeing Banner straight in the stomach.
Banner’s hands released his shirt and he took a step back, gasping, and Tony watched with a perverse sort of pleasure. He was fucking lucky it was race weekend or else Tony would have gone straight for the crotch. His daddy might have been a bastard – but that only meant that he never taught Tony to fight fair. Didn’t mean he wanted to entirely fuck over his team tomorrow though. Sure as hell didn’t want to do any time on Fury’s bad side this early in the season.
“You – fucking –” Banner wheezed out, bent over but quickly recovering, and Tony couldn’t help but laugh cruelly as he stepped forward, grasping a whole fistful of Banner’s ridiculous hair and jerking his head up to look at him.
“You leave my fucking mechanics alone ,” Tony threatened, watching Banner’s lips form a snarl and now he was more vicious, backyard-bred pitbull than cute, wide-eyed puppy – but Tony had never been intimidated by dogs. “You have a problem? You come to me. If you ever pull a stunt like that again I’ll get you fucking suspended . I know everyone , I’ll point out every mistake until you have enough points on your license to pull you from a race. Maybe not here, maybe not at Le Castellet, but you’ll fucking know it’s coming.”
“Fuck you,” Banner growled before, in a surprising burst of energy, he pushed forward so suddenly Tony’s hand released his hair and he was shoved back into the wall so hard he actually groaned.
Banner’s hand was wrapped around his throat, his face only inches from Tony, his eyes wild and angry. Tony opened his mouth to protest but Banner just pressed down harder on his windpipe so that he couldn’t speak.
“You do that and I’ll fucking kill you,” he threatened, his voice low and hard, his eyes leaving no room for argument.
And clearly Banner thought that he was terrifying but fuck – Tony had seen terrifying. Terrifying was not some half-naked, twenty-three year old, hairless boy with a god complex – even with his crazy eyes and his hand around his throat and his full fucking commitment to being a total fucking cunt.
So Tony laughed. It was breathy and barely there with his throat situation being what it was but he laughed nonetheless. Banner was obviously taken aback by that response, his hand trembling slightly on Tony’s throat, easing up just a little.
“Go ahead,” Tony taunted in a raspy whisper, appraising him cooly from beneath half-lidded eyes. “Put me out of my fucking misery.”
Banner reestablished his grip then, pushing him back into the wall by it and making Tony swallow and gag convulsively at the abuse. Their bodies were aligned perfectly, Tony could feel Banner’s breath on his face, the way he panted, the way his chest heaved in anger and exhaustion. He could see the sweat on Banner’s brow and the confusion in his eyes. He could practically fucking smell it.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Banner asked and though he meant it to be angry, Tony could tell it was a farce. He wasn’t angry anymore – he was perplexed.
Tony gave him a look like ‘take your fucking pick’ of his problems – not that Banner knew, not that anyone really knew. Knew the way his chest ached just from this, this fight – the way his heart thudded arrhythmically in his chest. Knew how much he’d given up just to be here, standing here, alive. Knew how much he wished he’d not been such a sentimental baby about breathing oxygen and waking up alive every morning when the doctor told him he’d kill himself driving when he ‘gave up’ – as Banner so eloquently put it. Knew how many times he woke up in the morning and wondered if it was even fucking worth it.
But he wasn’t a kid anymore – he was a goddamn man. So no one needed to know. He didn’t need to take his shit out on anyone else – least of all his fucking team . And that was why he was one of the most highly lauded and respected engineers in the industry – even despite working for a shitty American team.
He thought maybe this was over now, the way Banner was looking at him. His eyes had softened, his grip wasn’t what it had been. Tony could almost breathe normally and his mind tried to find something to say that wasn’t completely caustic for when Banner let him go – some way to end this so he could get back to his own room, his tub and his wine and his tablet of cold, emotionless statistics for tomorrow’s qualifying sessions.
But Banner didn’t let him go. Instead, his grip tightened once more and he leaned in and kissed him.
Tony was so fucking shocked he didn’t even respond at first, just stood there and let it happen. It wasn’t like he wasn’t gay, like that wasn’t something people didn’t know about him. But he didn’t get this – didn’t understand what kind of manipulation this was meant to be.
Banner’s mouth was hot and Tony could feel the press of his body against his and it took a shameful moment for his wits to come back to him but when they did Tony shoved at Banner, tried to break the unwelcome kiss.
“What the fuck?” he squawked as Banner leaned back to study his face and then smirked, obviously misreading all of Tony’s signals as he leaned in again.
This time though he pinned Tony more effectively, slipping a knee between his legs and holding him against the wall with his hips and his hand and his lips over Tony’s and all the anger that had drained from Tony’s body only moments ago was back with a vengeance. He was not fucking doing this. He didn’t know what ‘this’ even was but he wasn’t doing it – blackmail or – or some kind of vendetta or something .
He fought back, shoving at Banner again as Banner released him to grab at his arms.
They fought for a minute, ineffectual and lame, more of a slap fight than anything else as Banner still easily had the upper hand with his hips pinned there. But Tony didn’t let him get a hand around his wrists.
“Stop – stop ,” Tony demanded, his chest heaving against Banner’s as Banner grinned at him squirming beneath his hips. “What the fuck is this?”
“This doesn’t turn you on?” he asked, finally managing to lock one strong hand around his wrist, pinning his arm up against the wall as Tony gapped.
“ What ?”
But Banner didn’t reply, he just tucked his head up against Tony’s neck, biting at the juncture where his jaw met his throat, and then Tony could feel Banner’s erection pressed hard into his hip and he hated that the combination of all of that and the adrenaline made him shudder.
“Fight me,” Banner whispered in his ear as Tony turned his shudder into a hard jerk to try to break Banner’s teeth from his neck.
“The fuck is wrong with you ?” Tony asked when he caught his breath, wishing his body wasn’t such a traitorous piece of shit.
Banner just laughed, his free hand sliding itself up beneath Tony’s shirt, following the arc of his waist, and Tony grabbed at it, trying to stop it, to hold it still.
“Where’s the goddamn camera?” Tony asked as Banner huffed, almost like he was offended by the implication, pausing to look him in the eye.
“There’s no camera,” he shot back before leaning back into his neck, burying his teeth there – but the fact that he was somehow sensitive about the accusation only made Tony more suspicious.
“Then what ?” Tony asked, rolling and jerking his torso again to break Banner’s contact with his body and Banner looked at him.
He couldn’t imagine what he looked like, pinned against the wall, right arm raised above his head and held there, panting with exertion and frustration, his eyes angry and hard – but clearly Banner liked whatever it was that he saw.
“I just want to fuck you,” he said and he said it – he said it so goddamn earnestly that Tony didn’t even know what to make of that .
Fuck had it been a long time since someone had said that to him – not like that. And Tony couldn’t help the shock, the way his dick responded to that assertion – even if he didn’t really believe him. Some fucking twenty year old kid in one of the nicest suites at the Four Seasons contracted for a couple mil a year wanted to fuck him ? It was absolutely preposterous. Banner could literally have his pick of any other person in this hotel, on the street, anywhere and he wanted to angry-fuck his thirty-eight-year-old engineer?
Tony started to laugh and Banner scowled, obviously not impressed by that response, and he eased up completely, releasing Tony. For a split second Tony thought that was it, he was just going to walk out of there laughing, left to sort this weird shit encounter out in his head over the next couple weeks. But he was wrong – and instead Banner grabbed his shoulder, turning him around and shoving him back into the wall face first.
“Jesus Christ!” Tony shouted as Banner got the upperhand in his surprise.
Banner pinned him there again – one hand on his wrist, the other on his opposite shoulder – and Tony could feel his hips pressing into his ass. He struggled against him, throwing his shoulders only to have Banner pin him harder.
“That’s good,” Banner practically purred in his ear. “You don’t have to fight it, you know – but I like it.”
“Fuck you,” Tony growled, reaching back for something – anything , grabbing a fistfull of his shirt and dragging at it.
“I see the way you look at me,” Banner continued and Tony’s laugh verged on hysterical as he let go of the shirt and tried again, a shiver building up his spine as Banner’s hips rocked against his ass.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Tony retorted, glaring at him over his shoulder and catching his grin.
It wasn’t like Tony fucking stared or anything. Sure – Banner was a good looking guy and Tony had the right to appreciate a good looking guy every now and then. Didn’t mean he was eye-fucking him constantly or wanted to be with him or that he even wanted to fuck-fuck him or – whatever. Fucking that kind of drama was always, always a mistake and he knew it, knew Banner was going to be that kind of drama as soon as his lean, muscular frame with that ass that looked impossibly good in a pair of tight jeans showed up in the garage that first day with Betty Ross by his side, enforcing the team’s acceptance.
“Am I?” Banner asked as his free hand reached around Tony’s hips and his mouth dipped in so that he could run his teeth against the back of his neck and Tony couldn’t fucking help himself – he pressed his forehead into the wall, closed his eyes, and moaned.
This would be such a fucking mistake, a huge fucking mistake – fucking Banner. Probably an even bigger mistake than Ross hiring him in the first place. His goddamn hand was between Tony's legs though, fondling Tony’s dick in his pants, and it was difficult to remember just why that was again. Tony’s legs spread a little at the attention, wanting more, even as his head told him he had to stop, that he couldn’t want this .
“Fucking hell,” he sputtered, slapping Banner’s hand away from his hips as he laughed into his neck.
“That’s how it’s going to be?” he asked and Tony made a low, threatening sound in the back of his throat.
“Fuck you,” he repeated, attempting to elbow back into his side and only glancing off of his ribs.
Banner leaned forward into his body and replaced his hand on his thigh, threateningly close to his dick, so that the fabric of his slacks pulled against it pleasantly, and he rolled his hips against Tony’s ass, forcing Tony to bite his lip so as not to moan again.
“Tell me to stop if you wanna stop,” Banner said, pressing the words against his neck, against his pulse point, right fucking there and – “I’ll stop if you tell me you wanna stop.”
Banner paused slightly, waiting for permission – the pressure of his hand against his wrist, pressing him to the wall; the feeling of his thumb right there on his thigh, stroking slowly so close to his dick; the way his chest pressed into his back, heaving against him; the smell of expensive cologne on his skin, cognac on his mouth – and Tony, he knew what he should say, he knew it, but what he wanted...
What he wanted was to be fucked hard and fast until he felt it all in his chest, until he felt like he was going to shake apart at the seams, until he was fucking screaming for it to stop, until he was made to shut the fuck up. What he wanted was to feel adrenaline pulsing through his veins, feel the way he felt behind the wheel of a car going a thousand kilometers an hour, feel that pulsing in his ears, fucking feel the way his heart thudded there in his brain when it wanted to give the fuck out.
Truth be told, he was insanely jealous of Banner. Jealous of the fact that he got his dream at twenty-three – the same age Tony was forced to give his up. Jealous of the fact that he was in this suite, in Ross’ racing uniform, in Tony’s fucking car. Jealous that he had his whole goddamn life ahead of him to fuck up and fail and succeed splendidly and just – experience all the things that Tony was denied by goddamned genetics.
But it was Banner who was there, pinning him to a wall, sucking on his neck, wanting to give him something he hadn’t had in years, something he fucking wanted but told himself he was too old for, that he shouldn’t want any more, that was stupid and reckless and dumb, and he just...
He just didn’t know how to fucking fight that right now, strung out on all these shitty feelings Banner dragged out of him.
So instead of telling him to stop, he told him there was a condom in the wallet in his back pocket and if he didn’t fucking use it he’d rip his fucking dick off.
He could practically feel Banner grinning against his neck but he used his shoulder and chest to push Tony in hard against the wall so he couldn’t escape as his hand dug for Tony’s wallet. Banner spread it open against the wall, thumbing out the little foil packet and then letting it fall to the floor.
“Hold it,” he demanded and Tony glared at him over his shoulder, gesturing uselessly with the free hand he could barely move by their hips.
“Between your teeth,” Banner qualified, bringing his hand to Tony's mouth, holding the condom between his own fore and middle fingers, his thumb stroking along Tony’s lips then slipping between them, forcing his mouth open enough to slide the foil packet inside.
Tony bit down on it as gently as possible while staring at Banner heatedly, hating how this power dynamic turned him on as much as it made him seethe. Banner outright ignored him, reaching down for Tony’s belt buckle, slipping leather through metal.
He could feel saliva pooling in his mouth from holding the foil packet and he tried to swallow it back down as Banner moved on to his button, undoing his pants one handed and letting them fall to his feet. Banner paused again though, his hand splayed across his thigh, framing his crotch and the expensive specialty briefs Tony bought to support his junk better, clearly enjoying the aesthetic.
“I’ll admit I’ve wondered what you’d be like in bed,” Banner mused, his breath hot on Tony’s cheek, “but I didn’t know you were such an old fag.”
Tony wanted to reply that he could fuck right off with that shit but he bucked against him instead, trying to break Banner’s contact even though at this point he knew it was futile. The only thing he really did was get Banner to bear down harder, to feel his dick hard against his ass, to hear him hiss a little as he brought his free hand up to his neck, pressing down on it, choking him again though less effectively.
“Don’t worry,” he soothed as Tony continued to struggle against him. “I like it.”
Tony wanted to tell him he didn’t give a fuck what he liked, wanted to tell him to get on with it, but he knew Banner was taking as much pleasure in the fight as Tony was and he still had a condom packet in his mouth. He swallowed again, glowering at Banner with as much of his eye as he could manage to get on him.
“Be good and pull down your briefs for me,” Banner asked as his nose traced the shell of Tony's ear and Tony did as he was told, his hand the only one that was free, pushing them down until his ass was exposed and his dick sprung free.
Banner’s hand released his throat as he brought it back down to Tony’s body, stroking along his thighs and deliberately missing his dick, even though Tony arched towards it, bringing it back around to his ass and slipping it between their hips, running his fingers up Tony's crack and making him jerk before removing it entirely to slide down his own briefs.
He pressed his dick in between Tony’s ass as he resettled his weight down on Tony’s body and his teeth grazed along his ear before he nipped it – hard – and Tony whined.
“I’m not going to be gentle,” Banner promised and Tony wasn’t there for him to be fucking gentle. He was already losing circulation in the hand Banner still had pinned to the wall, all pins and needles. “Why don’t you give me a safeword.”
Oh here we fucking go , Tony thought, trying not to roll his eyes as he made a threatening sound from deep in his throat.
“ Bruce ,” he hissed through clenched teeth, barely containing the spit in his mouth on the singular syllable.
Banner seemed frustrated though – which was not really a problem for Tony – as he used his elbow to pin his free arm into the wall at the bicep and snatch the condom packet from his teeth.
“It can’t be my name, dumbass,” he accused, as if Generation Z made up fucking BDSM or something and Tony was just too damned old to know.
“Yeah it can be your fucking name,” Tony shot back, not wanting to play this goddamn game, just wanting to get fucking laid, “because I’m not your fucking sub and if I ever call you by your first fucking name you’ll know there’s a real fucking problem.”
Though being a Formula 1 driver required quick reflexes, Banner was proving to be much quicker than Tony ever seemed to be able to anticipate, and in half a second he had his forearm pressed against Tony’s throat and he dropped the wrist of the hand he’d been holding to smack him fucking hard on the ass. Tony’s whole body went stock-still like shock, like he’d been hit by a fucking tidal wave, and his dick throbbed with gut twisting pleasure as he moaned loudly.
“Again,” he begged though he could barely speak, could hardly believe the word even formulated in his brain clearly enough to leave his mouth.
Banner grabbed at the sore place his hand had left, digging his fingernails in before releasing and smacking him again.
The fucking buzz was incredible as the blood rushed in his ears and he felt lightheaded from the instantaneous release of adrenaline and endorphins. He could practically feel precum dripping from his dick as Banner ran his fingernails across the tender spot before smacking him one more time. Tony’s mouth hung open and he could hardly hear his own moan – muted by the deafening pounding of his heart and the pressure on his throat but he didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care. It seemed like a goddamned eternity since he’d felt like this.
Banner tore the condom packet he was holding against Tony’s back with his teeth and took the condom with his free hand, sliding it on one handed so as not to give Tony any chance of escape. Not that Tony was going anywhere now, already close, feeling that tight, sweet need for release low in his gut and ready to rub himself off all over the fucking wall if he had to.
Tony was a pretty experienced guy and he didn’t expect to get prepped, didn’t expect Banner to take it slow or do any of that romantic, chick-y shit some guys liked – but the total lack of preamble as he shoved his dick in had even Tony clawing at the wall in surprise, a sharp and sudden stab of pain shooting through him that disappeared quickly but left him shaking.
“Fucking hell,” Banner gasped, pausing and pressing his forehead against his own forearm, putting even more pressure on Tony’s throat – but Tony was just thankful for the moment of reprieve. “Didn’t know you’d be so fucking tight.”
Tony realized then Banner wasn’t even all the way in and he started to laugh – a pathetic, airy thing born of elation and fear. He could already feel Banner resting on his prostate – he didn’t know how much more he could take.
Banner’s hand came down to grip his ass, digging into the soreness and Tony reached back reflexively for his wrist as he did, trying to stop the pain even though he was moaning over how good it felt. But Banner didn’t let up, didn’t act like he noticed Tony’s hand at all – he just used his own hand to spread Tony’s ass open wide as he pulled out just an inch to press in again, all the way this time.
He moved his other hand from Tony’s throat and it was a welcome relief to take a full breath and steady himself as Banner slid his dick forward – but Banner had no intention of letting him go that easily and instead he grabbed Tony's hair and pressed his teeth into his neck, moaning himself, the vibration against his skin making Tony shiver and his skin prickle.
Despite being pretty fucking into this, Tony was quickly learning that Banner had a painfully annoying habit of pausing at all the worst times, and he paused now, buried to the hilt in Tony’s body, and Tony didn’t fucking want to lose the humming in his veins, the ringing in his ears, but he couldn’t do all that much to make Banner move again. Not much more than taunt him, anyway, but well – Tony did often get himself in trouble with his flagrant mouth.
“Are we going to cuddle or fuck here, princess?” Tony asked through his teeth and that seemed to rile Banner up well enough.
Banner's fingers moved from Tony's ass to his hip, biting in hard again as they curled around the bone, and his other hand loosened in his hair only to reestablish his grip a second later, pulling Tony's head tight against the wall. Banner was strong enough that even though his hands were free, there was nothing Tony could really do to fundamentally change the nature of his dominant position, so he reached down and wrapped his forefinger and thumb around the base of his dick like a make-shift cockring – wanting to feel so full and hard that he was going to fucking explode if he didn’t get some relief.
“Fuck,” Banner mouthed against the back of his neck with tongue and teeth as he began to move, snapping his hips and fighting how tight Tony was with little measured movements.
“Come on, come on,” Tony goaded impatiently, trying to grind back on Banner’s hips – though with his pants around his ankles and his briefs barely halfway down his thighs and his body pressed against the wall, it wasn’t really effective in the slightest.
“You’re desperate ,” Banner breathed against his neck as he repositioned his mouth on it, digging his teeth in, and Tony bit his own lip so hard he thought they may both have broken the skin.
“Fucking break me,” Tony growled back and then he was loose enough to do just that.
Banner let go of his hair to grab his other hip, slamming into him so hard and fast Tony was sure the sound of their skin smacking together could be heard on a neighboring balcony if anyone had the gumption to sit outside on that cool, early June night. And fuck if he even knew what sound he made to go with it – the feeling was fucking exquisite after so many years of denying himself this very thing.
His knees hit the wall as they went weak and he reached out to try to hold onto something but his fingers just scrambled on the smooth wall and they slid together to the floor in a tangled mess. But Banner didn’t fucking stop and Tony stared at the ceiling and thanked a God he didn’t believe in that Banner didn’t fucking stop. He just pressed his body at awkward angles into the wall so that everything fucking hurt but it felt so fucking good and Tony was biting his tongue as he moaned, feeling absolutely used in the best goddamned way.
Banner dragged his hips back on his dick with every thrust, cursing the condom as Tony’s hand reached for his dick again. He wasn’t expecting a reach around but his hand was shaking so hard with adrenaline he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to pull himself off. The blood rush in his ears deafened everything and he knew Banner was saying shit, probably filthy fucking shit Tony would love , but everything was narrowing in on Tony – tunnel vision – and he could only feel Banner’s dick in his ass, stroking against his prostate relentlessly; could only hear the way his useless fucking heart fucking stuttered on every other beat; could only press his hand harder against his dick as he beat himself off, wanting to cum so hard he’d feel it in his teeth.
He could feel it though – the way Banner started to come apart, his hands gripping tighter then letting go completely, grabbing at Tony's shoulders and dragging him up so that their bodies were aligned, so that he could wrap his arms around Tony’s torso and bury his face in the back of his neck, bury his fingers in the fleshier parts of his body as he pulled him down on his dick and thrust up.
Tony’s head lolled back on Banner’s shoulder and he closed his eyes, ignoring Banner, ignoring the room, ignoring himself and his ego and everything else as he let his focus narrow down to just the hum in his ears, just the blood in his veins, just the precipice he stood on as he reached orgasm.
Cum shot hot across his knees and fingers as he gasped and moaned, eyelids fluttering, body strung out and taunt as orgasm crashed through him. And then he was loose and shaking and he would have fallen forward and hit the wall had Banner not been holding on to him so tightly, propping him up, working his hips a couple more times and only prolonging the oversensitive shaking as he rubbed against Tony’s prostate while cumming in his ass.
Tony took a moment to relish it, to appreciate the way the muscles in his thighs twitched, the way everything was calm and silent – the epicenter of a hurricane. What came before was a fucking mess and what came after was sure to be just as bad but he didn’t have to think about that for a minute. He only had to lay there against Banner’s chest and breathe.
“Fuck,” Banner said at last, whispered into his neck, and Tony smirked a little, knowing he couldn’t see it. Maybe not too bad for an ‘old fag.’
He got up though as Banner’s arms fell away, not wanting to inhibit him or give him a reason to say something shitty and break Tony’s post-orgasm high. It might have felt fucking fantastic, but this was... not great. If they could get through the next couple awkward minutes and then pretend it didn’t happen from there on out, that would be truly ideal. Tony wasn’t sure how big Banner’s mouth was but it wasn’t like he had friends on the team to blab to and going to the press would only hurt him too in the long run so Tony had a small spark of hope that maybe he’d just keep his damned mouth shut.
Banner had stepped away to discard the condom and grab his glass as Tony pulled up his briefs and his pants, grabbed his wallet, tucked his shirt back in quickly before buckling his belt, watching Banner discreetly beneath his lashes.
The kid – fuck, he’s a fucking kid , Tony chastised himself – seemed to have completely deflated though and lost all interest in him, flopping down on the bed and nearly spilling his drink.
“Hey,” Tony said as he ran his fingers back through his hair, trying to recover himself a little as he took a step towards the door. “Don’t forget what I said – you leave my fucking mechanics alone. You got a problem? You come to me.”
Banner laughed in response, lifting a hand to shoot him an “okay” sign, and Tony could only huff and shake his head as he headed for the door. If Banner wanted to fucking test him, that was his goddamn prerogative. He wouldn’t be the first person Tony had fucked then fucked over on race weekend.