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“Honey, I’m home,” Tony calls, turning the corner to where Steve’s painting the sunset in Iron Man colors.
“I know,” Steve says, turning on his stool, his smile soft around the edges and for Tony alone, and, even after all these weeks it still hits him like a wrecking ball that Steve wants. Him. It’s a thought that curls and winds around his insides and makes him press the tips of his fingers to whatever piece of available skin he can reach on Steve at any given time just to assure himself that, yes, real. Not dreaming. Not hallucinating. “I think JARVIS doesn’t want a repeat of what happened last time you snuck up on me while I was working with acrylics any more than I do.”
“There’s still paint on your face anyway,” Tony says, dropping his briefcase in the middle of the living room because it’s been a week that felt like decades and he has to have his hands on Steve now. Feel his skin, feel the muscle move beneath, inhale his scent like a calming drug.
“I missed you,” Steve says, suddenly in front of him, his hands on Tony’s shoulders, thumbs resting against his neck, as if he knows it’s exactly what Tony needs to hear. Needs to feel.
“I missed you too.”
They stand in silence, eyes closed, foreheads pressed together, just reveling in each other’s presence until they both seem to realize at exactly the same time just how ridiculous it is.
“Uh,” Steve says and Tony thinks, never, ever lose that blush. He laughs, wipes a thumb over the paint on Steve’s cheek and pulls a face when it comes away wet. He rubs it across Steve’s other cheek with a grin. Steve’s face doesn’t change expression so it comes as a complete shock when Tony feels the wetness Steve smears over his own face.
“Hey,” Tony says, but he’s laughing and then they’re scrambling for the paint mix palette. It takes less than a minute for there to be paint everywhere, wrestling on the floor, marking skin and clothes alike. Tony can almost feel JARVIS’s silence shift to a disapproving one but he doesn’t care.
Steve might be stronger, but Tony’s devious and he’s not above fighting dirty, so he yells, “Ow,” when Steve elbows him by accident in the stomach. He feels guilty about Steve’s stricken face for all of two seconds because then he’s shoving his hands underneath Steve’s ratty t-shirt, smearing red and gold paint all over.
They’re kneeling facing each other, breathing hard and Steve stills and sighs. His pupils blow wide and dark and just like that, the mood shifts. Tony’s hands are still on Steve’s chest and without a word, Tony begins to slide the t-shirt upward at the same time Steve lifts his arms. The thing to do then, seems to be to lean forward and take one of Steve’s pink nipples in his mouth but Steve stops him with a, “Wait”. Tony looks up, feels his knees go a little weak like they always do, even though he’d never admit it, when Steve takes his face between those large, soft hands and kisses him, slowly pressing Tony’s mouth open with his tongue. The slow building roll of arousal suddenly spikes and Tony shoves his hands in Steve’s hair, already clumping with paint, turning the kiss desperate. He doesn’t even notice Steve unbuttoning his, now ruined, shirt until he feels him tug at his arms to take it off.
“I want you so badly,” Steve is saying against his ear as Tony fights with the cufflinks in an attempt to get the shirt off his wrists. “I want you to,” Steve swallows and Tony looks up at him, sees him turn bright red and has the time to think, oh, this is going to be good, before Steve continues, “I want you to fuck me,” and Tony’s brain shatters into a million pieces. Well, he’s been a genius for most of his life, he can live with never having a coherent thought again.
“Are, are you sure?” he likes to think he says, but it comes out like a hoarse croak. Steve seems to get it though, because he rolls his eyes.
“I was sure weeks ago.” He moves his hands over Tony’s chest, lightly taps the arc reactor and then thumbs Tony’s nipples, making him shiver. “And I know there’s something else you’ve wanted to try, but won’t ask me for. I want you to. Whatever it is.”
“Steve,” Tony says.
“Please,” Steve whispers, before Tony can say anything else. He leans in, grazing his lips along the edge of Tony’s jaw. “Please.”
“Okay,” Tony says, as if there ever was another option. As if he could refuse Steve anything at all. “Yeah, okay.”
“Where––“
“Here,” Tony says, pushing against Steve’s shoulders, who goes, willingly. “Right here.”
There is paint on the white tiled floor and Tony runs his finger through it, draws a line over Steve’s belly, down his navel. Steve sucks in a breath, lifts his hips when Tony tugs at his loose sweat pants, they too an array of colors, new and old. He takes the pants off, all the way, staying at Steve’s bare feet and digging his thumb into the sole of one, hard. Steve groans, tossing his head to the side but doesn’t pull away. Tony kisses his way back up Steve’s legs, pushing his knees apart when he gets there, so he can suck a bruise on the inside of his thigh.
“Are you going to ––“ Steve begins when Tony rubs his cheek against Steve’s shaft.
“That too,” Tony says, and he licks the moisture of the head. Steve’s hands flex and tighten by his side, his thighs twitching with need to push away from the floor.
“Oh,” Steve says, when Tony closes his lips around Steve’s cock. He looks up to see him stare at Tony with wide-eyed wonder. Tony’d tried this a few times before, but Steve had always blushed and pulled him back up and Tony had gone. But this time. This time he’s allowed it all. So he relaxes his throat and goes down all the way and he feels a surge of fierce and possessive affection when Steve moans soft and gentle like he does everything. When he has Steve good and hard and a little bit out of his mind, he sinks lower, kitten-licks Steve’s balls, lifts them so he can press his tongue underneath.
“Tony,” Steve breaths, but he’s not pulling away, isn’t squirming, or not in a please stop kind of way, at least. So Tony drags his fingers down, between Steve’s cheeks until he finds the silk-soft furrow of Steve’s hole. He sticks his thumb in his mouth, sucks it nice and wet and then presses it against the rim, circling slowly. Steve makes a strangled noise, his head thumping against the titles and Tony knows he’d been watching. He wraps a loose fist around Steve’s cock, pushing and easing with his thumb to make Steve used to the sensation.
“I have stuff,” he says, and jesus he already sounds out of breath, Steve who can fuck Tony for an endless hour without breaking a sweat, “in my pants, if you, if you, oh, Tony.”
“You planned this?” Tony says, sitting up a little and Steve lifts his head, gives Tony a small smile that would be sweet if his eyes weren’t blazing like the sun.
“Maybe. A little,” he says and Tony bites his lip. If he was hesitant before, he isn’t any longer.
“Good to know,” he says, bending down again, “but I won’t need them yet.” He rests on his elbows, pressing Steve’s ass cheeks apart and breathes hotly, following it with a cool puff of air. He leans up on one hand and gently pushes against Steve’s thigh. “Can you hold your knees up for me?” he asks and Steve blushes bright, bright red, but he nods, takes hold of one knee and then, when Tony hooks a hand underneath the other and lifts it, he holds them both. Open and exposed. It should be obscene, this sight. But it isn’t. It’s gorgeous, the way Steve’s abs work hard to push every breath in and out, the way they ripple when Steve lifts his head. It’s precious, the way Steve looks embarrassed to the roots of his hair but he doesn’t ask Tony to stop, to look away, to please get on with it. He lets Tony look, even though he’s struggling to keep eye contact.
Tony gives in, as much to Steve’s pleading eyes as to the irregular beat of his own damaged heart. As if looking too long at that kind of exposure of body and soul could be blinding. He leans in and licks, without warning, once, tongue broad and wet and he has to suppress a full body shudder at the hoarse shout Steve releases. He does it again, can feel the way Steve’s thighs tremble, and then he does it again. A low keening noise builds in Steve’s chest and then Tony stops playing around. He pushes his thumb back into place, adding more pressure than before, enough to make the muscle part around the pad of his finger, just a little, and then he licks around it, his tongue pointed. He makes it good and wet, as wet as he can because he wants this to be amazing, but he also wants to make this as easy as possible for Steve.
So he can’t help but ask Tony for this, again and again.
He works his thumb a little deeper, saliva dripping down his chin and down Steve’s crack, the muscle giving a little easier now.
“Oh god,” Steve whines, like he’s in pain and Tony looks up. Steve’s breathing’s erratic and he’s making these small sounds like he can’t help himself. He’s still dutifully holding his knees apart, but his cock is thick, the head almost purple. He’s so hard it has to hurt, a gossamer thread of pre-come suspended between his slit and navel.
“If you have to come, go on,” Tony says. “I can do this all night and I want you to take whatever you need, Steve.”
“Okay,” Steve says, his throat working as he swallows past another inhibition. He’d never wanted to touch himself in front of Tony before, but now he’s flushed red all the way down his chest, and Tony doesn’t think it’s shyness this time. His blue eyes are dark, his lids heavy. His lips are parted and moist, and one day Tony’s going to ride that mouth while he’s kneeling over Steve’s chest but not today. Trembling fingers take hold of the base of Steve’s cock and Tony pushes aside the sharp stab of arousal that gives him. He bends down again, pulls his thumb out of Steve’s ass and shoves his tongue inside. He pushes and pushes, knowing how the hairs of his goatee must tickle and burn. Then he pulls out and licks and laves, hard, then starts all over again.
“Tony,” Steve’s saying, “Tony, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t hold on.”
Tony can tell he’s tossing his head from side to side, making noises like sobs and he’s torn between pulling away and wrapping his arms around Steve and keeping this up, because it’s good, he knows it’s good, and yet. The first impulse wins out. Tony pulls his tongue out and shoves his thumb in place, is about to lean up so he can soothe Steve somehow, but that is when Steve comes, his whole body jerking, clenching down on Tony’s thumb, pulsing all over his stomach, even hitting his chin, his head and tailbone practically the only things touching the floor. The stripes of white a story of their own between the red and golden paint.
Crawling all over him, not caring about the mess, Tony wraps his arms around Steve, kissing the wet trails that have leaked from his eyes, muttering nonsense in his ear.
When, after a minute or two, Steve says, “I’m all right, Tony, I’m all right,” his large hands running up and down Tony’s back, he realizes he’s apologizing. “That was really, really good, it just, I don’t know, made me feel really exposed I guess, stop saying sorry.”
“Sorry,” Tony says, lifting his head from Steve’s shoulder and looking at him, grinning. Steve makes an effort to roll his eyes but he’s smiling. He wraps his arms around Tony and lifts his head so his mouth is right beside his ear, when he says, “I don’t think we’re done yet.” He pushes his leg between Tony’s thighs to make his point and Tony pulls back, eyes wide.
“You want more?” he asks, can’t really help being awed because that was a spectacular orgasm that would’ve sent Tony right into a coma for eight blissful hours.
“Always,” Steve says, so honest and warm, Tony knows if there is anyone who can make him drop to one knee and ask a four word question, it’s Steve. He doesn’t though, sits up instead and says,
“Bed.”
“I have to clean my paintbrushes or they’ll be ruined tomorrow,” Steve says. He sits up and looks at his chest. “And I should probably shower.”
“Don’t you dare,” Tony says, his finger dragging and catching over the dried paint, then over the smear of come on Steve’s chin. His mouth drops open when Tony licks at it. “I like you like this. I’ll shower though, travel makes me feel dirty.”
Steve rolls his eyes and stands, pulling Tony to his feet. “You just did,” and here he blushes pretty pink, “all that, but it’s traveling that makes you feel dirty.”
Tony grins and runs a light palm over Steve’s ass. “And there’s much more where that came from,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.
“You’re a terrible, terrible person, Tony Stark,” Steve says, pulling him close with one hand and dropping a kiss to the top of his head, “but I love you anyway.”
Tony leans back, startled, expecting Steve to be half in shock for saying that, it being something that slipped out without him meaning to, but Steve’s just smiling down at him, says, “Shh, you don’t have to say it back,” when Tony opens his mouth. And it’s not until Steve’s back is turned, already gathering his brushes that he thinks, half afraid and half... something else, maybe I wanted to.
Steve’s standing awkwardly in the doorway, a robe drawn tight around him when Tony reappears out of the bathroom rubbing a towel though his hair.
“You’re dressed,” he says, “there are clothes on your body, why are there clothes, when we’re about to do more dirty ––“ Steve looks at his feet and Tony drops the towel, steps into Steve’s space stark (hah) naked. “No,” he says, “no, no, don’t get all self-conscious now, you were doing so well, you’re so perfect and I want to make you feel good, I’ll make you feel amazing, it’ll be amazing, trust me, do you trust me?”
“You’re babbling,” Steve answers but he’s rolling his eyes and placing his hands on Tony’s hips.
“Babbling? What do you mean babbling? I’m not babbling, I only babble when ––“
“You’re afraid you’re about to ruin something, I know,” Steve whispers in his ear, gathering him close and Tony’s about to say that’s not at all…, but the thing is, it is, and when exactly did Steve begin to know him so well? He looks up and there’s that smile, a kiss to his cheek and then Steve murmurs, “Show me,” against his lips.
Tony fumbles with the belt on the bathrobe for a second and they stand there, breathing against each other’s mouths, not speaking or kissing, just looking and damn if that doesn’t make the heat in Tony’s stomach flare again. He walks Steve to the bed, settles him on his back, makes sure he has everything within reach and then lies down beside him. Steve runs his hand all over Tony’s chest, the arc reactor, his nipples, while they kiss, slow and soft, and for a brief moment Tony wonders if Steve is stalling. He pulls back a little, but before he can say something, Steve pinches his lips together.
“If you’re about to ask me if I’m sure one more time, I’ll have Dummy hide all your tools.”
“He would too the traitorous little bugger,” Tony says once Steve lets go, “I think he’s a little bit in love with you.” Steve grins and kisses him again, a little more urgent now, harder and faster, breaking for short breaths in between. Tony reaches for the lube and begins to kiss his way down Steve’s chest but Steve puts a hand on his shoulder and stills him.
“Can you do it from here, I, I’d like to kiss you, while you, um, get me ready.”
“Oh,” Tony says, going temporarily cross-eyed with lust, “yeah of course.” He’d wanted to get his mouth on Steve again because he knows it eases the burn, but he can always go slow. And there is always next time. A thought that warms him down to his toes.
He has to ease Steve’s knees apart a little, apparently all those inhibitions aren’t completely gone yet, but once he does, Steve holds them there, lifts his hips a little to help. He’s still loose from earlier and Tony easily slips a wet finger inside. Steve nips a little hard at Tony’s lip when he does, and goes all wide-eyed. He’s about to start apologizing so Tony kisses his mouth, slipping his tongue inside as he crooks his finger against that precious bundle of nerve endings.
“Oh my god,” Steve says, arching into it, his head falling back on the pillow.
“Good?” Tony asks.
“Yes, I, oh, I had no idea, yes.”
He’s lost in the sensation of it, so Tony kisses his neck, drags his teeth along Steve’s jaw as he pushes his finger in and out, listening to his breathing. When it becomes uneven and deep, he asks, “Ready for another?”
“Yeah,” Steve says without hesitating, lets his knees fall open further, even, and Tony has to bite his own lip so he doesn’t grind against Steve’s thigh in response to that. He uses more lube than he needs to, sucks hard on Steve’s nipple to distract him when he pushes a second finger inside.
“You all right?” Tony asks, but Steve doesn’t answer, pulls Tony up with one hand to the back of his head to kiss him. He almost forgets what he’s doing when Steve sucks on his tongue, but then he’s curling his fingers and Steve moans in his mouth.
“More,” he pants, and surely this is an opportunity for teasing but Tony can’t find his voice. He looks down, his eyes snagging on the sex flush on Steve’s chest and sees how hard he is, how there is a small pearl beading at the tip of his cock and how it slowly falls to his belly.
“Yeah,” Tony says, lifting his head, and Steve is looking at him, eyes shining, “god, Steve, you’re,” ruining me for anyone else, ever, “incredible.”
“I want you,” Steve says quietly. Tony leans his head on Steve’s shoulder and huffs a laugh. Not only ruined but okay with it, pleased even. Happy. He hooks his fingers and Steve clings to his shoulders, lifts them a little so they can kiss again and Tony begins to scissor his fingers, willing his brain to just stop thinking for once.
It’s not that hard. Not with Steve making delicious noises whenever they have to stop and breathe. It doesn’t take long before his thighs start to tremble, Steve’s first telltale sign and Tony hasn’t even touched his cock yet. He sits up and reaches for it but Steve stops him with a hand on his wrist. “No,” he says, “I don’t want to. I want to with you inside.”
“But you could again, I know you could,” Tony tells him, he’s been on the receiving end of Steve’s incredibly short refractory period after all.
“I know, but I’d like to.”
“Okay,” Tony says, easing down again, kissing Steve’s neck, the shell of his ear, his nose, his chin, the dip between his clavicles. “One more finger, all right?”
Steve nods, closes his eyes and Tony pulls out, pushes back in with three fingers, watches Steve bite his lip and then release it to take short, quick breaths. Then he opens his eyes and smiles, says, “I’m fine, Tony really. Stop looking at me like I might break any second.”
“Then talk to me,” Tony tells him, slowly working his fingers in and out, waiting for Steve to relax. “Tell me what it feels like.”
“It feels good,” Steve says even though the blush creeps all the way to his hairline and Tony realizes Steve is trying to put him at ease which is just. Well.
“Are you ready?” he asks because Steve’s right, he’s not going to break.
“God, yes,” Steve says, gasping when Tony pulls out and sits up to reach for the condom. “Can we do it without?”
Tony frowns until he understands. “Yeah,” he says, can’t stop the smile tugging at his mouth. “I’d like that.” He kisses Steve one last time. “Turn over.”
“But I’d like to see you.”
“Next time, gorgeous, this’ll be easier on you. It’ll still sting as it is.”
“I can take it,” Steve says but he’s turning over and Tony shoves a pillow under his hips. He takes a second to trail his fingers over Steve’s back, a canvas of sunset-colored paint, now dried and cracked and still so beautiful.
“But I don’t want you to take it. I want you to like it, I want you to love it. I want you to enjoy it so much you shout my name when you come and it’ll be all you can think about for days, Steve. Because that’s what it’s like for me.”
Okay. He hadn’t meant to say that last bit but he has no time to regret it. Steve pushes himself up on his elbows and looks over his shoulder at Tony who is kneeling between his thighs.
“Oh Tony,” he says, eyes soft and hooded. “I think about you all the time anyway.”
It should be cheesy. If it were anyone else, Tony might have laughed but all he can do now is swallow, and lean over Steve’s back to kiss him. He groans when his cock nestles between Steve’s ass cheeks, nearly loses it when Steve tentatively grinds back. “Shit,” Tony says, looking down, his forehead pressed between Steve’s shoulder blades. “Steve.”
“Just, please... Tony,” Steve says. He sounds destroyed, hoarse and needy and god, how can Tony do that him.
He grabs the lube, uses far too much with trembling fingers and lines himself up, nudging against Steve’s hole. Steve, who sucks in a startled breath at the touch, and Tony spares a brief thought to super-strength and its consequences if Steve was to tense up at the wrong moment now, but this is Steve, always aware of how he could hurt someone so he casts the thought aside. In its stead comes another one, one that tells him it’s not fair Steve always has to hold back. He’ll invent something to make it possible to let go with wild abandon but not now, oh god, not now, because now Steve is whispering his name on a low, drawn out whisper as Tony slides inside, easier than he imagined but still oh, so tight and hot and overwhelming. He thinks he’s telling Steve that, but he can’t be sure because now he’s all the way settled, down to the hilt and Steve is moaning, moaning in a way Tony has never heard from him before and he has to hold still or this’ll be over before he’s begun.
But Tony Stark has, if nothing else, learnt a great deal of restraint in his many, many hooks-ups and it takes him approximately ten seconds before he says, “I’m going to move now.”
He finds a rhythm, without higher thought, to the sound of Steve’s noises, goes from slow and deep, to angling his hips until Steve shouts out, his fingers scrabbling for the sheets above his head, ripping them. And then he’s pushing back, first his shoulders coming off the bed, his head hanging between them, and then his chest, and Tony says, “Yes, Steve, come on, push up, get on your knees.” After that he moves faster, his fingers digging deep, white marks into Steve’s sides until he can feel him start to tremble again. Then he reaches around, wrapping a fist around Steve’s cock.
“Move into it,” he says, holding himself still and pressing his face to Steve’s back.
“Tony,” Steve says, breathless.
“Go on,” Tony says, “let go,” knowing that he won’t, not entirely.
Slowly at first, Steve begins to push back against Tony then forward into his hand. “Oh,” he whispers, “oh my god.” He begins to speed up. “Tony, oh, oh my god.”
“Yes, Steve, you feel so good, go on, take what you need.” Tony runs his free hand over Steve’s chest, who begins to move faster and without rhythm. He reaches Steve’s throat, draws his fingers over Steve’s chin and when he pushes them into Steve’s open mouth, Steve sucks on them hard, then throws his head back and shouts, “Tony,” right before he goes completely rigid and comes. He clenches down on Tony so hard it’s actually impossible to follow him over the edge, so Tony just goes down with Steve when he collapses, running his hand through his hair and pressing kisses to his shoulders until he stops breathing so hard, Tony is lifted up with every inhale.
“You didn’t…” Steve says and Tony smiles against his spine.
“You up for another round,” he asks, carefully pressing forward.
“Oh,” Steve says, startled and Tony’s brain short circuits. “I, yeah, I think so.”
“Holy fuck,” he says, needing a second to process that. “Okay, hold on.” He shifts and pulls out, laughs at the noise of protest Steve makes. “Turn around.”
“Oh, okay,” Steve says, turning over, settling with Tony between his knees. He looks amazing. Disheveled and still flushed pink, his mouth swollen from where he’s bitten his lips. “C’mere,” Steve says, spreading his thighs and holding out a hand. Tony goes, settles on top of him. He’d never admit it, but he’d be quite content if this was it for the night, even though he’s still so hard, he’s throbbing with it. And then Steve shifts, lifts his hips and slips a hand between them, guiding Tony back inside him.
“I may never again leave this bed,” Tony warns him, biting his lip as stars spark behind his eyelids. He opens them when he feels Steve’s fingers press against his mouth. He’s looking up at Tony with such adoration, he can feel something burst inside him. “I love you,” he blurts out and only barely suppresses a wince. There is no earthquake, the skies don’t rain down on them and Steve doesn’t even look all that surprised. He just pulls Tony down for a kiss, wraps his legs around Tony’s hips and then lifts his head a little, murmurs, “I’d like to watch you come now,” in his ear.
So Tony holds Steve as tightly as he can and rocks them both to release, his mind for once, peacefully in the moment.