shield | open post.

[ Everyone from stand-up comics to late night hosts has cracked their jokes about the Avengers sharing one roof. Their headquarters has been likened to an Olympic Village, which couldn't be further from the truth, but when you put enough attractive, fit people together the rumors almost generate themselves. They were always just gossip, though. Steve never really expected to be feeling grateful because the person he was sleeping with— or fairly determined to be, anyway— was a matter of steps away.

It really would take him an obscenely short amount of time to get to Tony's bedroom, but he doesn't want to come off too strong. He decides two minutes is a respectable amount of time to wait, and fills those minutes messing with his hair in the mirror and changing out of his sweats back into his street clothes. He never has liked to navigate the compound less than respectfully dressed.

After two minutes and some seconds, Steve's knuckles are rapping lightly on Tony's door. ]

Come in-

[True to his word, Tony is splayed out in bed, entirely naked, and not even trying to hide it. Then again, he only wears boxers (or occasionally a towel) when wandering the compound in a state of undress for the sake of everyone else's sensibilities; he's past caring whether everyone sees him naked (though admittedly naked and aroused is a different story).

There are plenty of things he could say, but what he blurts out first is:]

How the fuck did you zip those jeans up?

[He can see Steve's erection outlined against the denim, thick and heavy, and his own cock twitches in response. Oh, this is going to be fucking good.]

[ Tony might not care about being seen naked, but Steve doesn't have that same luxury. General nudity doesn't really phase him: he's drawn from live models, shared a dressing room on a USO tour, shared even closer quarters at war, and he has no trouble sharing a locker room or even gym showers with the team. But it's different to be caught off guard going about his day by Tony Stark in a loosely wrapped towel. Especially when he's wearing his usual athletic pants, which leave dangerously little room for error, so to speak.

These jeans aren't much roomier, but by some dizzying stroke of fate that Steve isn't going to start questioning now, he suddenly doesn't have to hide his body's reaction to Tony's nakedness. ]

I had to go commando, [ Steve answers honestly, although if anything what he sounds is dazed. As the door shuts behind him, he falls back against it, taking a few deep breaths to collect himself. When he looks back at Tony, his face feels hot. ]

But at least I still wore pants. Do you have any idea how distracting it is when you walk around here naked?

Is it? [Tony's voice is practically a purr, smooth as silk - but, then again, everyone knows he likes having his ego stroked. Enjoying the thought of Steve being distracted of him is a natural extension of that. He's just not going to wonder how much Steve thinks about it at other times, if it crosses his mind when they're on missions together.

He stretches languidly, hearing his spine crackle as he raises his arms above his head, and then sits up.]

Right, right, I promised we'd postpone the conversation.

[Tony slides from the edge of the bed onto the floor, on his knees conveniently in front of Steve.]

Not sure you'll be in much of a talking mood shortly, anyway.

[Leaning forward, he mouths the stiff bulge that tents - or tries to tent - the denim. Tony's fingers pop the button, toy with the zipper.]

'm gonna be thinking a lot about you going commando, [he mumbles. That's more Tony's kind of thing, and Steve doing it is hot and pretty much guaranteed to make Tony fall apart.

Gotta stay focused, he thinks, and tugs the zipper down, eases Steve's cock out of his pants. A shudder runs through Tony's body, and to hide it, he curls his tongue around the head.]

[ The last he remembers, Steve was leaning back against the door and trying to ground himself. He doesn't have the first clue when or how his legs carried him further into the room, but the sight of Tony sinking to his knees makes Steve forget why it mattered. ]

Oh God, oh fu— [ He slaps his palm against his mouth to muffle a cry when Tony's tongue touches him. It takes every tensed muscle in Steve's body to keep from bucking forward, too hard and too soon. What centers him is the sight of Tony completely naked, on his knees at Steve's feet; somehow, the vision doesn't evaporate into nothingness. This is actually happening. ]

[The line of Tony's bowed head and neck and the curve of his naked back paint a deceptive picture of submission, only enhanced by the eagerness with which he sets to licking long, wet stripes along Steve's erection. This might not be a scene (he doesn't even know if Steve is aware of any of that), but the attitude still carries over a little. It's like he's playing a part, and Tony's always been good at that, at least when it comes to sex. It allows him to drift away from his frantic thoughts and focus on his arousal - and, more importantly, on Steve's.]

Don't worry about pulling on my hair too hard, long as you don't leave me bald, [Tony slurs, just before he noisily sucks Steve's length into his mouth.]

[ Prior to this very moment, Steve would not have thought of himself as someone who enjoyed power dynamics in bed. But a flame ignites inside of him at the sight of Tony kneeling naked at his feet while Steve remains (more or less) fully clothed. It is a deceptive picture, because if anyone is in control here, it isn't Steve. He's only been reacting.

Then Tony says something about pulling his hair and Steve sees a chance to act, immediately gripping a handful of Tony's hair and tugging— not hard, but not gentle either. He can't help gasping out a cry when Tony sucks him down; the sounds he makes around Steve are so obscene. ]

Just - tell me if it's too much, [ Steve says breathlessly, tightening his grip experimentally. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't a thrill to ruin Tony's perfectly styled hair, like he's leaving his mark wherever he can, making sure Tony looks thoroughly fucked from head to toe. ]

[Sometimes, Tony likes clear-cut roles, the simplicity of following (or giving) orders. And he could do that with Steve - would be perfectly happy on either side of the equation - but that kind of thing requires discussion beforehand. Instead, the dynamics bleed and blur, and it fits who they are perfectly - Tony pulling the strings, Steve eking out a measure of control by yanking Tony's hair, a constant struggle that's never what it looks like on the surface.

Tony makes a noise that he hopes sounds encouraging - he doesn't know why, but his scalp has always been a hotspot - and flattens his tongue along the bottom of Steve's dick as he sucks, then traces the veins from base to tip. In some other circumstance, he might be jealous that Steve's dick is just as perfect as the rest of him, but since it works out to his benefit, he can't be too mad about it. Plus, now he gets to tease him mercilessly about his giant dick. Win-win situation.]

[ The compound is quiet tonight (or maybe more likely, Tony has some kind of proprietary sound-proofing technology) and the silence seems to amplify the sounds that remain. Steve can hear his own breathing as loud and persistent as a jackhammer, and when Tony starts paying particular attention to the veins on his dick, the desperate sounds Steve makes seem to echo throughout the room. It makes his face heat to hear himself.

Somehow Steve ends up with both hands on Tony's head, and he tries to anchor himself to the feeling of raking his hands through Tony's hair, his fingertips grazing lightly against Tony's scalp. A thought approaches from a distance, like a highway sign coming slowly into view: he remembers what Tony had said about eye contact his heart skips. He's not entirely sure he can handle that.

Good thing that Steve has always been a jump-in-head-first kind of guy, and it's with a feeling that reminds him of free diving from a cargo plane that Steve does finally look down. ]

[Look, when you're a billionaire building a headquarters for your pet bunch of vigilante superheroes, you're allowed to make your own rooms a little bit nicer than the others (and make it rooms, plural, because Tony absolutely has his own bathroom). The soundproofing is more for his own sake than others' - certainly Tony never expected to have sex here, out of all his residences - but what keeps sound out also keeps it in, and Tony gets to be the only one selfishly enjoying the sounds Steve makes as he sucks him off.

Then Steve runs his fingers through Tony's hair, and it's Tony's turn to make slightly garbled pornographic noises of his own, the equivalent of god, yes, never stop doing that. One of Steve's fingers brushes against the rim of an ear, and Tony looks up at just that moment, eyes wide and dark as his gaze catches Steve's. The jolt in the pit of his stomach isn't completely due to arousal, but it's easy to convince himself otherwise.

Tony pulls off for a moment, gives Steve a grin that's dazed, but no less wicked - especially not with his reddened lips.]

You wanna fuck my mouth?

[ The sound that comes out of Steve is somewhere between a gasp and a wheeze, as if the breath were just punched out of his lungs. Tony's eyes are one of Steve's favorite features: they're the most expressive, honest and open part of him. Which explains why he goes to such lengths to hide them behind tinted glasses and armored helmets. But he isn't hiding them now. He's fixing Steve with the full force of those great big eyes, dark with want, and if Steve were any less than a super soldier his knees might have already buckled. ]

Fu-u-uck, [ Steve groans as his dick jerks, bobbing up and down almost comically, as if nodding its own answer to Tony. ] Yeah, okay.

[The question's mostly rhetorical; it's not like Tony really expects Steve to turn the offer down. Tony scoots back a little bit so he's all the way up against the bed and tugs Steve along with him.]

All right, so when you feel like you're gonna come, just let go and do it. [Tony pauses, then adds,] unless you wanna pull out and let spray, in which case, try to aim away from my eyes.

[Maybe he wants to come all over Tony's chest, no judgment here. Emotion can't be Steve's only kink. Tony glances up at Steve again - eye contact, emotion, check - and slowly takes him into his mouth, relaxing the muscles of his throat when he feels the head of his cock brush the back of his mouth, not stopping till his lips hit the base of Steve's erection. And, god, it feels like he's halfway down his throat, even though Tony knows that's not physically possible. He squeezes Steve's hip, signaling him to start thrusting.]

[ Steve goes lightheaded at the mental picture that Tony summons with those two most romantic words: "let spray." He wouldn't call himself possessive, but there is something about the idea of marking Tony like that, about Tony letting him, that plants itself in his mind.

The image vanishes, along with every other thought in his head, when Tony starts working Steve's cock into his mouth. Steve slaps a palm over his mouth to muffle the pathetic cries spilling from his lips. Tony gives him the signal not a moment too soon, and Steve, hovering at the precipice of carefulness and desperate abandon, starts to make tightly controlled thrusts. He feels like every last atom of his being has concentrated in his dick, which is probably for the best, because he couldn't handle the way Tony is looking up at him otherwise. ]

[Tony lets himself relax a little; he's always slightly on edge around Steve, but everything seems to be going all right so far. It helps that there's no room for his foot in his mouth right now, and that neither of them have much blood flowing to their brains. Tony's brain starts to reach that pleasant fuzzy spot where he focuses entirely on his partner's pleasure, on letting himself be used, and oh, it's good. His breath comes a little faster through his nostrils and he makes encouraging (albeit garbled) noises. Tony imagines Steve bending him over the bed and fucking him like this - bending him over the desk in his office, or one of the benches in the weight room, or pretty much anywhere else - and, yeah, he absolutely wants Steve to bury his dick in his ass and wreck him after this, Christ.]

[ In no state to consider thoughts carefully— or at all, really— Steve follows through as soon as he has the idea to dig his hands into Tony's hair. He tugs gently, pulling Tony closer in sync with his thrusts, then dragging him away as he slides back out.

As much as Steve wants for this to last forever, his body has its own idea, as it so often does. He starts to lose control, picking up his pace slightly, getting less precise and more sloppy with his movements. The garbled noises coming from Tony should be grotesque, perhaps, but they just turn him on more. ]

Oh, oh f- Tony, you feel so— [ He breaks off into a near-shout as his orgasm hits like a speeding truck and he finally comes down Tony's throat. ]

[Steve keeps fucking Tony's mouth - really fucking - and Tony moans in bliss. The thoughts that normally tumble through his mind go silent; all he can think about is Steve's cock sliding in and out in a steady rhythm, and it's fucking perfect. Maybe all those random hookups haven't been so bad for Steve after all, if he's learned something about how to do this. Tony registers the shift in thrusts at the edge of his perception, the way Steve's cock hardens even more, and he drags himself back to the present just in time to feel Steve shoot down his throat. Tony swallows greedily around him, milks him for every last drop and keeps sucking even afterwards, right up till he pulls out.]

[ Steve really does mean to pull out, but somehow, his hips jerk forward and he ends up thrusting right back into Tony's sensational mouth. He thinks he can feel every last nerve ending in his cock, but instead of shying away from over-stimulation, he finds himself chasing it back down Tony's throat again. He never even goes soft, and after an embarrassingly short few moments, he shoots off again.

Finally pulling out as his senses begin to return, Steve looks down at Tony with a mixture of guilt and awe. ] Shit, I'm so sorry, Tony. Are you okay?

[Tony seems to be wholly unbothered when Steve keeps thrusting. He notes somewhere at the edge of his mind that Steve isn't going soft like a normal person would, but he doesn't expect a second orgasm in quick succession. Even though it catches him by surprise, he sucks just as eagerly as before, determined to prove - well, he's not sure what he's trying to prove, but there's always something.

He blinks slowly and slumps back against the side of the bed, reaching up to rub his jaw a little.]

Shit, [Tony echoes in awe. It takes him a moment to register that Steve asked a question.] 'm fine. [A lot more than fine, but he's having trouble verbalizing right now, between the fuzz of his brain and the simple fact that most of his blood is south of his waist.]

[ Usually, this is around the time when Steve's mood begins to plummet. The high of an orgasm— or two— only lasts so long, and reality floods back as ruthless and relentless as a tsunami. He remembers the fleeting nature of the moment, the fact that he just shared it with a relative stranger, and all at once any meaning he was hoping to find washes away.

Except.

This time, he can't lament the lack of connection. Despite the friction between them over the years, he knows Tony better than anyone else he's had sex with recently. Whatever happens next, Tony won't evaporate back into the New York bustle, never too be seen or heard from again. That should probably make him nervous, because he's never tried to maintain a friendship— or even an acquaintance— with someone he's slept with. And the fact that it's Tony only makes it more complicated. In theory.

In practice, Steve shuffles to the side of Tony and falls backwards onto the bed, his chest still heaving from the excitement. This is how sex is supposed to make people feel, or so he's heard. He just never thought it would happen this way. ]

Wow, [ he says in a soft, dazed voice. ]

[Tony somehow eels up onto the bed next to Steve, and where Steve is a puddle of post-orgasmic bliss, Tony is tense, his entire body drawn into lines of want. Even though his cock aches, he keeps his hands fisted at his sides, short-trimmed nails digging into the palms. Something that's embarrassingly reminiscent of a whimper catches in his throat, but Tony does his best to swallow it down like everything else.]

[ Once he catches his breath again, Steve turns his head toward Tony, who has joined him on the bed. He can practically feel the tension rolling off of him, not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way that demands urgent attention. ]

Is this the part where I pound you into the mattress? [ He asks, echoing Tony's own words from earlier. ]

Please.

[There's a hint of begging in Tony's voice, one that might not be there ordinarily. But for all that, he seems fairly subdued - especially for Tony, and especially for someone who's shown every indication of being as forward in bed as he is in everything else.]

[ There is something undeniably sexy about hearing Tony beg, about the fact that Steve somehow got him to that point using nothing but his dick. If he'd known what it took to get manners out of Tony, they might have done this years ago.

He adjusts his position so that he's hovering above Tony, using the hand that's not supporting him to graze the pad of a finger over Tony's nipple, then leaning in to ask in his ear: ] Where do you keep the lube?

[Instinct tells Tony that he should arch up, that he's so close to being able to grind against Steve. He keeps himself planted on the bed by sheer strength of will.]

Drawer in the bedside table, [Tony grits between clenched teeth. God, it's been too long since he's been fucked, he's not sure he can take someone as big as Steve, but that sure as hell isn't going to stop him now. Never let it be said that Tony Stark is a person who makes good life choices - if he did, he wouldn't be here.]

[ Steve half-crawls across the bed to reach into the drawer, not giving himself any time to pause and think. He's not so afraid he'll reconsider— he's in deep here— but somehow he's found the nerve to follow through and he isn't trying to lose it.

He should probably get naked eventually, even if only for Tony's comfort, but that would mean putting a pause on the action and Tony sounds like that might actually kill him. So instead, he joins Tony back on the bed and places a palm on his thigh, gently pulling his legs apart. ]

I'm gonna open you up now. [ Christ, it feels insane to be saying those words to Tony Stark. But Steve doesn't have the luxury of stopping to awe at the situation. He squeezes some lube onto his fingers and spreads it generously, and then he jumps in, no parachute, and starts tracing Tony's rim with maddeningly light pressure. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject