shield | open post.

["Secretary fe-" Tony mouths, wrinkling his face up, and then-]

Secretariat was a horse. A Triple Crown-winning stallion, to be more precise. And, y'know, it's been years since the last time I was in the saddle, but I think I still remember a thing or two.

[Tony rocks his hips, as if to demonstrate, and of course he grinds against Steve's dick, because what else is he going to do in this situation? It's absurd, bordering on unbelievable.]

Though let me just say that I'm not entirely opposed to relocating this conversation.

[On one hand, he's a little terrified that everything will pop like a soap bubble if either of them have the opportunity to reconsider. On the other, he really wants the kind of intimacy best approached in a bedroom, where you can get away with sprawling in an undignified, debauched heap without anyone wondering why the door's been locked for hours.]

[ Steve chokes out an embarrassing moan, first triggered at the mental image of Tony "in the saddle" then made worse (louder) when Tony grinds down on him. ]

Fuck, Tony, you can't just— [ But Steve can't actually bring himself to discourage anything that Tony is doing, or might want to do, so he just trails off, trying to catch his breath and maintain some control.

After some deep inhale-exhale exercises, his brain finally catches up enough to begin considering the strategy side. As one does. ] Okay, yeah, I'm— I'm not opposed either. But how would we relocate without being seen?

[Tony tilts his head, like the shame of being seen is an entirely new concept to him. Honestly, at this point in his life, he's over giving a fuck about who sees him en deshabille, even when it's the rest of his fellow Avengers. (Which, really, considering how often he's seen Banner naked...yeah. One wet pair of pants is nothing.)]

Mmkay. You get your pants back on and head back to my room. I'll give you ten minutes, then I'll leave. Fri, unlock my room for Steve.

Sure thing, Boss.

[Thankfully, FRIDAY doesn't offer any further commentary, and Tony glances at Steve to confirm the plan before he (totally ungracefully) climbs off of him and stands up.]

[ Shame is not as great a concern for Steve as teasing is. He knows that the other Avengers would take any hint of this— whatever this is, between him and Tony— as an invitation to tease mercilessly. And Steve can't think of any surer way to kill the mood than letting their nosiest friends crack jokes about the whole situation.

Thankfully, Tony is quick with a plan. Steve nods along a few times and then springs into action, Tony's instructions easy to follow even with anticipation burning him up inside. As he pulls open the door to leave, he looks back at Tony seriously and says: ] Make it five minutes.

[Tony has every intention of making Steve wait ten minutes just to drive him up the wall, but somewhere around minute seven, he realizes he's starting to feel the familiar edge of arousal creeping up on him again. Which, okay, makes sense with the anticipation of what he's about to do, but also makes significantly less sense when considering what his rebound time should be (very much not fifteen minutes, probably more accurately measured in hours). He wants to chalk it up to the promise of fulfilling a long-time fantasy, but something feels off here. Maybe it's medically inadvisable to have sex this soon after almost dying (or actually dying; Tony doesn't want to think about it too much). Maybe Steve fucked something up. Maybe Tony fucked something up.

That's something to consider later, ideally after as many rounds of sex as physically possible, Tony decides, because he's Tony Stark and everything is for future Tony to deal with, which is how he always ends up fucking himself over. He ties the windbreaker over the wet spot on his pants and makes his way to his room, thankfully without bumping into any of their teammates on the way. Hopefully Steve managed the same thing.]

[ Steve's route to Tony's room is mostly uneventful, save for a near brush with Clint on video call with his entire family, and that's maybe the first time Steve can remember his life flashing before his eyes like that without being in active battle. Thankfully, FRIDAY is looking out enough to steer Steve down an alternate route, and he finally makes it to Tony's room with three minutes to spare. Or eight, if Tony sticks to his original plan, but Steve can't imagine he'd want to prolong the wait.

As the minutes stretch on, excruciatingly slow, Steve begins to mentally curse himself for saying anything. He was too eager, wasn't he? The blushing virgin thing is just a novelty, it couldn't possibly hold Tony's interest much longer. Any minute now, FRIDAY is going to pipe up in Tony's place and inform Steve that actually, Tony has decided to do anything else and Steve should remove himself from Tony's room posthaste.

He goes back and forth with himself for another few minutes, which is long enough for Tony to finally catch up. Steve, having fully talked himself into a tizzy by now, actually startles in surprise when Tony arrives. ]

That was longer than ten minutes, [ Steve accuses, because it had to be. That wait was endless. ]

I was kind of hoping you'd be naked, [Tony blurts out. Although that's what he would do - would have done before their fight with Thanos, he's not sure he'd have the nerve to go through with it right now - and therefore he should expect Steve to do the total opposite. But that's basically how his fantasies begin: Steve naked and touching himself on the bed when Tony walks in. He realizes suddenly that fantasy Steve is nothing like real Steve, that the real Steve Rogers is actually awkward and skittish and why the fuck does Tony feel like he's about to have a panic attack?

Okay. Tony sucks in a deep breath and puts his good hand on Steve's shoulder, then changes his mind and cups his cheek.]

Steve, [he begins, and realizes he doesn't know what to say, that the full focus of those blue eyes is enough to pin him like a bug on a card. So instead, he leans up and kisses him.]

Shit. Yeah. That was the move, wasn't it? [ Now that Tony is here, Steve regrets not being more proactive, but at the same time, he doubts that it ever would have occurred to him to wait for Tony in the nude. (There is a small tangled pile at his feet, but those are his hand wraps, which he can't remember removing but must have unraveled through sheer nervous impulse.)

The jury remains out on whether Steve should bail, because it's finally hitting that he's in way over his head, but then Tony moves in to touch Steve's shoulder, then his cheek, and Steve could cry from relief, gratitude, you name it. He doesn't understand why Tony, a man accustomed to the best of everything, would waste his time with Steve, who is giving nothing— but he also isn't going to question it. Not when Tony is leaning and— ]

Mmph. [ Something between a squawk and a gasp is muffled when their lips meet, but it doesn't take Steve long to recover from the surprise and lean in. This, he knows how to do: he wraps his hand around Tony's neck and moves in until their chests are almost pressed together. His other hand circles around the small of Tony's back, and yeah, there might be some subconscious fear involved, because the universe never lets Steve have things like this, and he's learned to hold on tight. ]

[Tony feels the heat of Steve's body radiating through his thin t-shirt, and god, it's everything he's ever wanted. He could stand here and neck like a teenager all day - well, maybe not all day, but a reasonable amount of time. The distance between them dwindles to nothing as Tony presses up against Steve, and a tightness that's been sitting in his chest since he woke up in the hospital eases.

When they finally break for air, Tony stays close, bumps his forehead against Steve's.]

Bed, [he informs him. Judging by his tone of voice, that's an order, Captain.]

[ Usually Steve is the one giving orders, but there is something unexpectedly, undeniably hot about Tony speaking to him in that tone of voice. He moves to follow directions quickly, lowering the arm he has around Tony down to under his ass. Steve's other hand follows, on the opposite side, and then he has a firm enough grip to lift Tony off of the ground.

He's blushing when he looks at Tony again, this time having to look up. Steve runs his hands along the underside of Tony's thighs, encouraging him to wrap his legs around Steve's waist for stability, and there's no doubt now that Tony can feel how hard Steve still is, pressed against each other like they are. ]

Is this okay? [ Steve asks belatedly, because it's all-too-feasible that Tony wouldn't take kindly to being manhandled. ]

If I ever complain about something like that, check to see if I've been replaced by an alien or a robot.

[Tony's voice is breathless, edging closer to that undignified whimper territory, because Steve manhandling him is every bit as hot as he's expected, and he can feel Steve's cock pressing against his groin. Against all logic, and possibly science, his own dick stirs, starting to take a definite interest in things.

He grins down at Steve from this new vantage point, and maybe there's a hint of mania seeping in around the edges of his smile, but he's fine. Better than fine, really. Tony twines his arms around Steve's neck.]

How far down does that blush go?

[You know. For science.]

I doubt that'll ever be an issue. You're inimitable.

[ Surely Tony has heard that before, but perhaps not with the same fondness that sneaks into Steve's voice now. Not for the first time, Steve feels almost overwhelmed with anxiety, and then quick relief, remembering suddenly how close they came to losing again. (Sure, they still would have beat Thanos, but it wouldn't have felt like a win without Tony living to see it.)

This moment now, with Tony in his arms and Tony's arms wrapped around him, feels more intimate than anything yet. He lets out a small laugh, a little nervous, a little flattered by Tony's clear interest. Objectively, Steve knows how he looks now, how others see him. But Tony is one of the few people who always saw through all of that, who saw the little guy with his catalog of insecurities underneath it all. ]

You're welcome to find out, [ he leans close to say into Tony's ear. He moves forward until his shins hit the edge of the bed and carefully lowers Tony onto the mattress. They seem to fit together now without much effort at all, and the sight of Tony Stark laid out before him is the stuff of fantasies. Steve maintains his place between Tony's legs as he reaches over his head to pull off his shirt. He tosses it aside, immediately forgotten, and tugs gently at the hem of Tony's shirt. ] May I?

Um.

[The inimitable Tony Stark is, for once, at a loss for words. It's not like this is the first time he's seen Steve shirtless - they've all changed clothes wherever and whenever necessary - but it's the first time he's had the chance to really look, the first time knowing that he's allowed to touch the expanse of bare skin (with that blush creeping down Steve's chest). And as impressive as the muscles are (which they definitely are), Tony somehow knows that he would feel exactly the same if this was Steve before the serum. It's Steve that's important, impossibly frustrating and stubborn as he is.

Tony reaches up to touch Steve with his good hand before he realizes that Steve's trying to take off his shirt - that he's asking - and there's a split second of panic when he thinks about the scarring that runs the length of his arm. He's used to the circular scar on his chest where the arc reactor used to be, but this is new and ugly and he hasn't had time to adjust yet. He tries to hide it whenever he can, even from himself. For someone who's spent so much of his life coasting along on his good looks (among other things), it's fucking hard.

So, yeah, the hesitation before he nods is noticeable. He knows it won't bother Steve, but that doesn't mean it won't bother him.]

[ Steve first noticed it back in the gym: the way that Tony favored his non-dominant hand, how he angled himself to keep his arm out of view. It wasn't hard to put two and two together, and Steve had felt a pang of guilt then, because his healing was over and done with, no scars in sight. He had wanted to respect Tony's clear discomfort, so he didn't say anything then. But now it's unavoidable. ]

Don't hide from me. [ What might've been an order comes out sounding more like a plea. He really hasn't any right to demand more of Tony, and more trust at that, but he can't help himself. He needs Tony to understand how much Steve wants every part of him. ]

Just act like everything's normal, okay?

[Because he can just imagine Steve drawing attention to his arm to try to make him feel better about it, and that's the last thing he wants right now. Yeah, he gets that Steve wants him, but they don't need to get into every single detail. Tony lifts the hem of his shirt up with his good hand, motioning for Steve to keep going.]

Yeah, yes. Sure. [ Steve nods— probably a little too insistently, to be honest— but he keeps his mouth shut and his eyes on Tony's face. It occurs to him that the best way to pull Tony out of his head might be to shift the attention away from Tony's arm, to himself and his body. Steve feels awkward sometimes, being admired for something that resulted from the hard work of people far smarter than him, but he'll take the awkwardness to spare Tony his clear discomfort.

So, in the interest of stealing the show, he pulls on the elastic of his joggers until his cock all but bounces out of them. Not giving himself even a second to hesitate, Steve takes a hand and strokes himself, getting more turned on than he expected at the idea that Tony will see him like this, that he's inviting Tony's gaze like this. ]

[Tony's distraction might be overly predictable, but in his defense, he's pretty sure anyone with even the slightest interest in dicks - and maybe a few open to questioning - would be distracted by Steve fucking Rogers putting on a show. His own cock twitches, reminding him again that a physical response really shouldn't be possible, but he doesn't care. He knows that being on display makes Steve uncomfortable, and that makes this moment all the more precious.]

Yeah, [Tony encourages him breathlessly, his gaze fixed hungrily on Steve's hand. It would be embarrassing to admit how many times he's thought about Steve touching himself, but it figures in the top five of Steve-related fantasies.] Just- just slow down a bit there. Make this one last.

[ Steve gasps as he feels his face heat, because even hotter than being watched, apparently, is being watched and told what to do. Neither of which Steve had any idea he was into before this moment, and certainly not to the extent that it feels like he's burning up from the inside from the sheer need to please. ]

Yeah, yeah, [ he urges with quick, jerky nods, his voice hoarse. Despite his eagerness, it takes the full extent of Steve's willpower to actually do what Tony says and draw this out. He gasps again, his cock impossibly hard and so fucking sensitive, but his hand slows down to a maddening but consistent pump. ]

Fuck, [Tony breathes with something approaching reverence. He lifts his own hips up to wriggle out of his pants, or at least get them somewhere around his knees so his own erection has more room. It's all he can do to keep from touching himself, but someone's gotta have self-restraint here-

Okay, that's a lie, he doesn't have any. He just doesn't want to push himself over the edge again, not till they're closer to having sex. And speaking of which-]

Gonna need some lube here real soon, [he informs Steve, but adds quickly:] I can get it if you tell me where it is.

[Because Tony selfishly wants to keep watching Steve, to drink every second of this in and hoard it for the future. It might never happen again (probably won't), but at least he'll have this.]

Back of the drawer, [ Steve offers, using his free hand to point at a nightstand. The hand on his dick pulls off for just a second too, so he can lick his palm obscenely before returning to touching himself; he's been turned on for so long that sweat and pre-cum were doing the trick until now.

He moans and jerks his hips into his hand, feeling exposed in a way that he never thought he could after the army desensitized him to nudity. Of course it has everything to do with who is watching him, and how, because Steve has never been able to help looking into those big brown eyes, and seeing how intently they're staring back is not just flattering but downright intoxicating. ]

You're gonna fucking kill me.

[Tony drags his gaze away with difficulty, at least long enough to find said drawer and tug it open. He blindly fumbles through the contents, closes his fingers around what he's pretty sure is lube.

He's barely coherent enough to bite back Better death than last time, because nothing kills the mood (haha) like reminding someone of the time you almost died. Or so Tony assumes.

The stiff fingers of Tony's right hand still work well enough to pop the cap and - goddamnit, has he ever done this with his left hand before? He loses his focus on Steve as he works slick fingers between his own thighs, grunts a bit as he arches his hips up a bit. Flexibility is an issue too, it would seem.]

[ Steve is so caught up in chasing his own pleasure, and perhaps even more embarrassingly, in staring directly at Tony, that he doesn't piece together why Tony was asking for the lube until it starts to unfold in front of him. And then he all but throws himself forward, crawling up the bed to where Tony is laid out. ]

Let me? [ He says inquisitively, gently placing his hand against Tony's inner thigh. As much as he wants to make that an order, it's not the sort of thing to push. He can make his argument, though. And that is, very seriously, even if his voice sounds completely wrecked: ] I want to make you come apart under my hands.

[As much as Tony wants to keep watching Steve touch himself - desperately, for the record - he also wants those hands on him. So it doesn't take a whole lot for Tony to accede to the request, not with those blue eyes looking up at him. Besides, Tony's pretty sure his own fingers are woefully inadequate for the task at hand. Even Steve's might not be enough - it's been a long time - but, hell, regrets are for future Tony to deal with when he can't sit tomorrow.]

Be my guest.

[Tony gives Steve a cocky grin that he tries to keep from slipping into a giddy smile, something that might betray the elation he feels that this is actually happening and he's not going to wake up with a serious case of blue balls.]

Take it slow and easy. [Not that Tony thinks Steve's just going to ram a couple fingers into him, but he hopes talking him through it will help ease the inevitable nerves.]

Right. Slow and easy, [ Steve echoes back, nodding with a degree of speed and force that betrays his clear nervousness. He powers through, reaching for the lube and squeezing a generous amount onto his hands. After a few moments, Steve wraps one slick hand around Tony's cock and simultaneously traces the pad of his thumb around Tony's rim. He keeps that up, rubbing torturous circles with the lightest pressure, working his hand along Tony's shaft a couple of times. Then, on a whim, Steve leans forward and flattens his tongue against Tony to lick him from root to tip. ]

You're doing fi-

[Tony starts to encourage Steve, not that he has much presence of mind left with which to form coherent words, but then Steve licks him and his voice cracks and slides into a yelp. His fingers scrabble against the sheets, and he arches his hips up, mindlessly chasing after more.]

Better than fine, [Tony amends breathlessly. Also, he may never let Steve out of his bedroom again if he makes it through the next fifteen minutes, and he's giving some sound consideration to installing a defibrillator.]

Just- keep going.

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