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Two weeks after his latest kidnapping, Tony is ready to rip his hair out and possibly Steve's. No, definitely Steve's, especially if he didn't stop following Tony around like he was going to shatter into a thousand fragile pieces as soon as Steve looked away. Really, after Afghanistan, Tony was old hat at this thing.
Still, Tony keeps running into Steve in the halls, looking for Thor he says but hey did you want to go get lunch? Or Tony would be in his lab and Steve would stop by to "chat" and wind up dragging him away for a movie in the living room with the rest of the Avengers. One time Tony even found him camped outside the glass doors of the lab, sketch pad in his lap, just drawing he shrugs but the pad looks suspiciously blank.
Steve is doing his best to make sure Tony isn't alone for more than ten minutes at a time, and Tony appreciates it, he really does, but sometimes he just wants a little Tony Time, you know?
Which is why he's currently hiding out in the gazebo on the Mansion’s back lawn, because he knows it's the last place Steve would look for him. Tony, voluntarily spend time in the natural elements (well, as natural as you can get in a well-manicured garden) when he could be in the lab? Ok, true, he has a tablet balanced on one knee with an open spreadsheet, and there may be another one sitting on the bench next to him currently running diagnostics on a new bow for Clint – this is a judgment free zone, dammit.
JARVIS is under very specific instructions to keep his current position a secret until at least ten minutes have passed. And by specific instructions, Tony means strict programming. If JARVIS so much as twitches in Steve's direction (he thinks twitches, but Tony supposes it would be more like... blowing an air vent in Steve's direction?), Tony will know about it.
And wouldn't you know it, those precious ten minutes he's carved out for himself turn out to be the exact ten minutes Steve was so afraid of.
Intensely focused on his tablet, Tony doesn't notice the footsteps approaching until it's too late--holy shit, his life is a B-rated horror movie.
"Anthony Stark, always hard at work, always making it look so effortless. How can we mere mortals even begin to compare?"
Justin Hammer's voice is like nails on a chalkboard. Tony pauses for barely a second and then smoothly starts to tap out a few commands to the suit before his tablet is abruptly snatched away.
"Ah, ah, can't have you calling your illustrious Iron Man suit to the rescue, can we?" Hammer drops the tablet on the ground and casually steps on it, grinding his heel so the screen splinters into a thousand pieces. Vindictive little shit.
Tony looks up to glare at Hammer while attempting to unobtrusively reach for the second tablet on his right. His hand freezes in shock before he makes it.
Hammer looks, well, like hammered shit, and that's putting it nicely. Two weeks ago at the charity ball he'd looked normal – as normal as Justin Hammer could be, at least – but now he looks like he's aged ten years in three days. There are deep, dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks are gaunt. He has creases at the corners of his eyes that Tony knew vanity had plastic surgery correcting before they could become crow’s feet. His complexion is sallow and the suit he's wearing is wrinkled and disheveled like he's slept in it for days. Possibly he has. Tony wrinkles his nose.
"You're not looking so well there, Justin. Something you ate?" Tony quips, hand slowly inching over to his second tablet. Hammer doesn't appear to have noticed the movement, or the second tablet, at all.
He's too busy attempting to stare a burning hole through Tony's head.
"In a manner of speaking, I suppose you could say that," Hammer replies slowly. He looks exhausted to the point of weaving where he stands. Tony's hand successfully makes it to his tablet. With the least amount of movement possible, he swiftly cancels JARVIS' Privacy Mode and leaves the rest up to his A.I. Whether he sends the cavalry or his suit, Tony couldn't care less.
Abruptly, Hammer withdraws a handgun from his suit pocket and aims it unsteadily in Tony's direction. Tony stills instinctively then forces himself to relax. If he stays tense his muscles will lock up and he can't exactly dive off to the side with a cramp, now can he?
"You see, Anthony, I realized not too long ago that we're a lot alike, you and I. We have genius level intellect, run billion-dollar companies, are single, wealthy, handsome-"
"Do you have a point or am I supposed to sit here all day and wait for you to shoot me?" Tony interrupts, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. Honestly, Hammer couldn't talk his way out of a paper bag, much less threaten someone into one.
"I realized that, while we're alike in many ways, we were very different in one major detail," Hammer continues, as if Tony had never spoken. "Besides the fact that I'm sane and you fell off the wagon years ago?" Tony mutters.
"You had an arc reactor, Anthony."
Tony is suddenly paying close attention, sitting up straight and staring at Hammer.
Oh. Oh, shit. Hammer's insane, but he really wouldn't – would he?
Holy fuck, he did.
Hammer reaches up and slowly unbuttons his dress shirt one-handed, manic grin spreading across his face as the white-blue glow of Tony's stolen arc reactor is slowly revealed, placed in the middle of Hammer's chest like a gruesome all-seeing eye. His body is clearly not handling the added power input well; streaks of infection radiate from the reactor in a mockery of a sunburst. Around the reactor it's the worst, almost black with necrosis. Tony shudders.
"Wow, Justin. That's... that's something. Uh, you're looking a little peaky there, aren't you? Maybe you should see a doctor?" Tony edges nervously away.
Suddenly the gun is inches from Tony's face. "For years, Anthony. Years. You were always the better one, the brighter one, the most handsome." Hammer emphasizes each point by digging the gun into Tony's cheek. Tony swallows and does his best to not react.
"But now..." Hammer trails off, his other hand coming up to pet Tony's hair. The look in his eyes is almost feral. There's sweat dripping down his forehead. The corrupted arc reactor is right in front of Tony's face and he can't help but stare at it and the dead flesh surrounding it in horrified fascination. Fuck but he has to get the hell out of here.
Tony inches his face back minutely, getting as much space between the gun and his head as possible. "Justin, I really think you should see a doctor. The reactor really isn't supposed to function like that and if you just give me a minute, I could-"
"NO!"
The gun discharges. Tony is flung backwards over the side of the gazebo.
Everything is an explosion of movement and sound. Steve appears from nowhere, tackling Hammer to the ground. The Mark VI lands in the grass next to the gazebo. Tony blinks at the shield lying on the ground next to his head; Steve had flung it to deflect the bullet meant for Tony's head.
Obviously JARVIS took the safest route and sent both technical backup and reinforcements.
He looks up to find Natasha standing in the open arch of the gazebo, Clint right behind her. They stare down at him sprawled spread-eagle on the ground.
"Stark, we really have to stop meeting like this. People might talk," Natasha says coolly. Clint quirks a smile and slings his bow back around his shoulders. Tony attempts an affronted air.
"Just gonna stand there staring? Not even going let me get into my armor before you go running back to S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he asks sullenly, pushing up off the ground.
Clint arches an eyebrow and gestures over his shoulder with a thumb, a smirk hovering on his face. "Oh, I think Captain America has this covered, Stark. I'm not too worried," he replies, amusement in his voice.
Tony stands up and leans over the side of the gazebo to see Steve retrieving a pair of handcuffs from his belt. Hammer is on the ground, face down, with his hands crossed behind his back. Steve has him pinned with one knee and isn't even winded. Hammer is writhing like a worm on a hook, screeching obscenities.
Calmly, Steve handcuffs him, then reaches down and drags Hammer to his feet. Sputtering, Hammer wheels around just in time to catch Steve's punch to the face. He drops to the ground, out cold, as Steve turns to face a gaping Tony and Clint, who's laughing hysterically.
"What did you-" stammers Tony as Steve leisurely walks out of the gazebo to join them.
Ignoring him, Steve turns to Natasha and says, "Take Hammer to S.H.I.E.L.D.. We’ll be by in a few hours to retrieve the arc reactor and report to Fury. See if you can get him to talk about how he got past security. In the meantime, don't call me or Tony – we won't answer." Natasha nods, lips curled in a small smile.
Steve turns to Tony, grabs him, and tosses him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It takes Tony a full fifteen seconds to process this. By then, Steve's made it back into the house.
"JARVIS," he says in a commanding tone, ignoring Tony's squirming and repeated yells to be put down, you asshole and I'm not a fucking princess in those god damned Disney movies you and Clint like so much.
"Yes, Captain Rogers?" JARVIS replies in a polite tone.
"Please redirect any of Tony's business calls to Pepper. Calls from S.H.I.E.L.D. can go straight to voice mail. Unless New York comes directly under attack in the next 4 to 6 hours, I would like for us to remain undisturbed," Steve directs, climbing the stairs to Tony's room swiftly. Tony is still struggling so Steve absently smacks him on the ass. That earns him five seconds of silent shock.
"Certainly, sir. Master Stark's Mark VI has been returned to the lab and Ms. Romanova and Mr. Barton are on en route to S.H.I.E.L.D. as we speak. Will that be all?" Tony squawks in indignation at his personal A.I. that he built himself for fuck's sake following Steve's orders as if he'd been programmed to.
Opening Tony's door, Steve enters, walks to the bed and tosses Tony on it, then returns to lock the door. "Yes, JARVIS, that will be all," Steve replies, turning to look at Tony sprawled across his bed.
Tony lies there, breathing loudly in affront, obviously, he's not turned on that his boyfriend just threw him on the bed like Tony weighed less than a pillow but unfortunately no one told his dick that jesus fuck-
Steve takes off his shirt and unbuckles his belt.
Abruptly, Tony doesn't really care how he got there. Steve is getting naked and Tony is okay with the direction this is going.
"You know, Tony, I didn't follow you around for the last two weeks just to irritate you,” Steve says idly. He toes off his shoes and stalks to the bed. Tony sits up and Steve shoves him back down. Tony’s dick is now fully on board with this endeavor, okay, Steve’s taking charge like a pro, holy shit.
Steve reaches down and grabs Tony’s tank top, dragging it over his head and throwing it over his shoulder. Tony whimpers, reaching for Steve, hips thrusting futilely in Steve’s direction.
“No,” Steve grunts, avoiding Tony’s hands. “You’re going to lay there and not move until I tell you to,” he adds, reaching for Tony’s jeans. Letting out a heavy breath, Tony lays still, hands gripping the bedspread as Steve yanks his jeans off and tosses them aside.
Now Tony’s only wearing a pair of silk boxers (they’re red, of course they are, it’s his favorite color, duh) and Steve’s pants are gaping open at the waist where he unzipped them. Tony swallows as Steve plants a knee next to his hip and leans down to breathe hotly on Tony’s neck.
“I figured Hammer would make his move soon,” he says conversationally, moving lower to mouth across Tony’s collar bone before suddenly biting down. Tony inhales sharply and raises his hands before Steve pins them forcefully to the bed. “Don’t move,” he growls lowly.
Tony swallows, his throat dry as a desert, but obeys.
Trailing his fingers slowly down Tony’s chest, Steve strokes the scars around the arc reactor before briefly thumbing each nipple. Tony’s cock is as hard as a rock and it’s all he can do not to squirm. If this is Steve’s idea of torture, Tony isn't above begging.
“Steve,” he murmurs, dragging in a breath. “Steve, please…”
Making his way down Tony’s chest, Steve continues like he didn't hear Tony. “So I kept an eye on you for two weeks, making sure you were always nearby, just in case.” Steve kisses his way down Tony’s stomach, pausing at his navel. “Then today, I look away for one second and poof. You’re gone.”
There’s no way Steve can miss Tony’s raging erection – hell, Tony thinks wildly, he’d string up the white flag of surrender on his cock if it meant Steve would get on with it – but Steve merely hooks a finger under the waistband of Tony’s boxers…and keeps talking.
Tony wonders faintly if this is what it death by blue balls feels like.
“Next thing I know, JARVIS is telling me Hammer has a gun pointed at your head and that it would be ‘prudent to come to your aid posthaste.’” As he talks, Steve slides Tony’s boxers down an inch at a time, revealing his straining cock like one of those people that take their time unwrapping their presents, picking at each individual piece of tape and making sure not to tear the wrapping paper-
Ok, so he’s getting a little distracted, can you blame him, he’s practically ready to self-combust here and Steve is driving him insane-
When Steve suddenly wraps his hand around his dick, it takes all of Tony’s considerable experience not to shoot off right then and there – dammit, he’s not sixteen anymore, ready to come at the drop of a fucking hat.
His breath escapes on a gasp when Steve suddenly twists his fingers and quickly pumps his cock a few times; Tony’s just starting to thrust up into that hand, head thrown back, hands twisted in the blanket beneath him, when Steve stops.
Tony honest-to-god whimpers then looks down and glares at Steve, who only smiles. When Steve lets go of his cock and sits up, Tony briefly considers crying before deciding that wouldn't work against Steve anyway – Tony’s only gonna get off when Steven damn well feels like it. Son-of-a-bitch.
Thankfully, Steve moves back up to plant both hands on the bed next to Tony’s shoulders before lowering himself down on top of him. Tony suddenly realizes that Steve is also 100% naked and doesn't know when he managed to kick off his jeans but is profoundly grateful.
Tony subtly widens his legs and Steve slips between his thighs like he was made to fit the curve of Tony’s hips – with the added bonus of rubbing their cocks together. Moaning lowly, Tony tilts his hips against Steve’s, trying to get the rodeo started, but Steve grasps his hips to hold him still.
Clenching his teeth, Tony grits out, “Steve,” before Steve swiftly silences him with a kiss – their first since Steven threw him on the bed. It’s hot and slightly wild, Tony’s desperation bleeding through into Steve’s mouth. He draws Steve’s tongue into his mouth, sucks on it and is rewarded by a low groan. Finally, he thinks faintly, swallowing a groan of his own when Steve reaches down to grasp their erections in one hand.
Oh hell yes Tony is behind this all the way, bring on the mutually beneficial hand jobs!
At some point Tony forgot he’s not supposed to be moving because his hands are clutching at Steve, one buried in his hair to keep their mouths sealed together, the other digging into the muscled back. Tony slings a leg up and around, foot digging into the hollow of Steve’s back as he grinds down and Tony thrusts up. Between them, Steve’s hand is moving quickly, grip smearing leaking pre-come.
Steve releases Tony’s mouth in favor of latching onto his neck, sucking hard where shoulder meets throat. “Ah, fuck-“ Tony groans, tilting his head to let Steve have better access. The hand in Steve’s hair tightens and presses his face harder against Tony’s neck; Steve bites down in response.
Tony gasps, hips bucking. His other leg joins the first and Tony locks his ankles around Steve’s back, thighs squeezing hips. Steve’s grip on them tightens in response, fucking into the hold of his hand, rubbing his thumb over the head of their cocks-
“Steve-“ Tony moans, “Steve- I can’t- I’m gonna-“
“Do it, Tony,” Steve says hoarsely. He ducks his head, tongues a nipple, then bites it.
Tony comes with Steve’s name stuck in his throat, hips thrusting into Steve’s grip sluggishly as come spills over his hand.
“Tony,” Steve groans, forehead resting on Tony’s heaving chest. He lets go of Tony’s softening cock and tightens his hand on his own. After a second, Tony’s hand joins him, thumb swiping over the head and causing Steve’s hips to stutter.
“C'mon, babe,” Tony murmurs. “Let go, come on.” His hand tightens on Steve’s cock before traveling down and cupping his balls. Two fingers reach behind them and press on the sensitive skin there.
Steve chokes on a groan, come spilling between them to pool on Tony’s stomach. One hand barely holds him up and keeps him from collapsing all his weight on Tony. Reaching up, Tony urges him to lie down on his side before cuddling up next to him. The room is silent except for their heavy breathing that gradually slows.
“If that’s what happens after you follow me around for two weeks, I’ll have to insist you do it more often,” Tony finally murmurs. His head is lying on Steve’s chest and he can hear the steady thump of Steve’s heart.
A hand comes up to briefly card through his hair. “I wasn't doing it to annoy you, you know. I was worried. I thought Hammer would show up sooner,” Steve explains quietly. Tony huffs out a breath. “I know that,” he mutters. “I just wanted some time alone without having to look over my shoulder every five minutes to see you staring a hole in the side of my head.”
Steve shifts uncomfortably. “I, ah, didn't mean to annoy you,” he says guiltily. Tony waves a hand and cuts him off. “You didn't annoy me, per se, I just…value my privacy,” Tony says. “Besides, I figured Hammer would show his hand eventually. I just didn't realize he’d cracked like a walnut.” Steve snorts.
“S.H.I.E.L.D. can handle him, find out what he was after,” Steve says, running a hand down Tony’s back. “Oh, I’m not worried,” Tony replies matter-of-factly. “Natasha’s on the case.” This time, Steve laughs out loud.
Tony grins and leans up to kiss Steve. “We’ll worry about that later,” he says into Steve’s mouth before biting on his lower lip. “After all, we have ‘the next 4 to 6 hours’ to ourselves, right?” Tony asks slyly, wiggling his eyebrows. “I don’t know about you, big guy, but I’m ready for round two.” Sitting up, he straddles Steve and pins his hands to the bed.
“And this time, it’s my turn to be in charge,” Tony says with a satisfied smile.
Steve doesn't argue.