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If I ever complain about something like that, check to see if I've been replaced by an alien or a robot.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

[ Keep going, the man says. As if Steve could bring himself to stop.

He starts to wrap his lips around the head of Tony's cock, but Tony jerks up at the same time, shoving himself into Steve's throat. Steve fights the urge to cough, pushing past the impulse to instead take Tony so deep it makes his eyes water.

Steve is desperate to make this good for Tony. Memorable. He wants to leave an impression that Tony won't soon forget. If this is the last time they ever do this, it won't be for Steve's lack for trying.

Naturally, the encouragements spilling out of Tony are like a drug, and Steve needs, more than anything, to hear Tony make those sounds again. To be the reason he makes them.

Steve sucks down until his lips meet the back of the hand he has wrapped around the base of Tony's dick. He is largely improvising here, both terrified and eager to impress. Maybe he can't compete with Tony's past partners on technique, but enthusiasm has to count for something. Plus, it helps distract from the fact that his other hand is still fumbling around Tony's hole, hesitant to take that next step. ]

[Enthusiasm counts for a lot, but not as much as the sheer impossibility of watching Steve suck him off, those lips he's spent too damn much time staring at wrapped around his cock, every bit of that intense focus on him. Tony almost forgets to breathe for a moment - it's not like there's a whole lot of oxygen being routed to his brain right now, anyway.]

Sorry, sorry, [Tony barely has the presence of mind to apologize after nearly choking Steve with his cock - although, frankly, he's not the real choking hazard here. But he does need to keep Steve's inexperience in mind - Tony can and will do almost anything (and probably has at one point or another), but Steve doesn't need a dick rammed down his throat, no matter how many times Tony's thought it would be a good way to shut him up.]

You okay? [Tony asks needlessly, because, wow, Steve's absolutely going to town, and he'd like to think that he wouldn't do that if he wasn't okay, but Tony has also seen Steve do absolutely insane things and just take the "walk it off" approach to injuries. He tangles his fingers in Steve's hair, tugs him up for a moment - god, those swollen lips and dark eyes are gonna kill him - just for a well-being check, and possibly to make sure he hasn't come to his senses yet.]

[ Steve whines— there is, embarrassingly, no other word for it— when Tony pulls him away. His eyes blink open slowly as he reorients himself. On one hand, he's confused and concerned, because why did Tony stop him? On the other hand, it turns out that hair-pulling is one of the hottest things that can happen to a person, at least as far as Steve's libido is concerned. He finds himself leaning into every little tug, even as he looks up at Tony with a questioning look. ]

Yeah, I'm fine, [ he answers, sounding a little hoarser than expected, he must admit. He probably shouldn't say that he's never been so turned on in his life, that he's thought about this but couldn't have imagined, didn't have any idea he could feel this way. That might be a bit much, so yeah, he's fine.

Just as long as Tony isn't having second thoughts, that is. ] Was I— was something wrong?

God, no. [Tony's reply is almost embarrassingly fast, but he doesn't want Steve to feel like he's doing something wrong when everything is absolutely right. In fact, he very much wants to encourage him on the off chance it might lead to an encore performance in the future.

He loosens his grip on Steve's hair and pets him for about two seconds before Tony realizes what he's doing and how potentially embarrassing it is if Steve notices it - though judging by his eyes, Steve is fucking wrecked and it's the hottest thing Tony's seen in his life.]

Just, uh, wanted to make sure you were okay. I wasn't really watching myself and keeping, you know, everything in mind. [Tony clears his throat awkwardly. There's no good way to ask someone to stop blowing you, especially if you're trying to convince them that they aren't doing anything wrong. Problem is, Steve's doing it right, and there's absolutely no fucking chance of Tony wringing a third orgasm out of his body.]

Look, do you want me to talk you through- [Tony gestures vaguely with his good hand. Anyone else, he'd have no problem getting the words out, but he feels strangely self-conscious with Steve. It's not a feeling Tony likes.] You know. Stretching me out.

[ Steve's posture relaxes instantly as Tony's reassurance drains away the tension. He never realized his scalp was such an erotic hotspot, but he can barely suppress another whine when Tony's fingers stop brushing through his hair. How he expects to make it through the rest of this encounter is a mystery, wrecked as he is already. It's a good thing that jumping in head first with only etchings of a plan is the Steve Rogers way.

But as much as he prefers to chart his own course, there's a side of him that tires of making all the calls, and that side lights up at Tony's suggestion. Relief and anticipation make for a euphoric cocktail of emotions and he knows he'll come off too eager, but fuck if he can help it right now. ]

Yeah, [ he nods breathlessly, grasping for the lifeline Tony has just extended him. ] Yeah, let's do that.

[The offer isn't only for Steve's benefit - it means that Steve won't be sucking him off, so Tony won't have to worry about any premature ejaculation. Which should be the last thing he has to worry about at his age, and he has absolutely no clue why his body is acting like this. It's almost enough to make him wish he could coax Steve into further experimentation (in the name of science, obviously), except he can guess how Steve feels about being a lab rat.

Also, he's not sure his heart can take more of these encounters.

Tony sucks in a breath, then exhales slowly. He's trying hard to make himself sound a lot calmer than he is; a significant part of him wants Steve buried balls deep in him right the fuck now and doesn't care about the consequences.]

Okay, so you wanna take the lube and make sure you get plenty of it on your fingers, [he instructs Steve.] You really can't have too much - I mean, it can get kinda messy, but if you're expecting to have sex without making a mess..[Tony shrugs and trails off. That's just how it works.]

[ Steve's eyes snap up at Tony's words. He knows, of course, what they're doing here. But hearing Tony say it so plainly somehow makes it even more real. They're having sex. Not messing around, not having fun— Tony didn't feel the need to offer any euphemism for it. Which leaves Steve feeling, not for the first time tonight, out of his depth. He doubts he could have made those words leave his lips. Then again, he didn't need to. Tony has been so understanding— Steve's chest fills with emotion at the thought, and he's suddenly fighting a real urge to lean up and kiss the man.

But Steve doesn't know if Tony would take it the way he means it— as an expression of gratitude, definitely nothing deeper. Not willing to risk rocking the boat at this stage, Steve decides against it. Instead he busies his hands following Tony's instructions, pouring an excessive amount of lube into his palms and coating his fingers thoroughly. ]

Should I— I mean, are you ready for...? [ He looks down at his hands— have his fingers always been that big?— and then back at Tony. As much as he'd like to get this show on the road, this is the rare occasion when barreling forward on momentum alone could end up poorly for Steve. ]

I don't want you to just jam 'em in there, but yeah, it's okay. Start with one and slide it on in.

[Tony tries to make his voice calm and soothing, but he's pretty keyed up already. Normally he wouldn't be nervous, but he can feel a knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.]

Here. [He grabs a pillow and lifts his hips up for a moment to slide it underneath, then spreads his thighs again once he's settled.] Positioning can be a little awkward sometimes, and this helps.

[Tony could probably take two fingers right now, truth be told, but he's easing Steve into this, and one is easier for him to handle mentally. Someday, he'll find himself a nice guy and thank Tony for helping him through this first rough patch.]

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