[ By the time that he takes a break from dancing, Steve has just about sweat through his crisp white shirt. He leans back against the bar, both elbows rested on the counter, and watches the dance floor as he catches his breath. Natasha really gave him a challenge: if he hadn't been taking dance classes for weeks leading up to this night, he wouldn't have had a snowball's chance in hell of keeping up. But he did, because if they were dead set on being traditional about this wedding, then Steve Rogers was going to have his first real dance with his husband in front of all their friends and family.
His husband. Just thinking the words brings an uncontrollable grin to Steve's face. He rubs the pad of his thumb against the band around his ring finger. Vibranium and a gold-titanium alloy hammered together to create a flowing pattern not unlike Damascus steel. His smile takes on a soft, dreamy quality when he thinks about Tony in that damned black tank top he always wears when forging, and the way it highlights every bead of sweat that drips down those strong arms of his. The image sparks an ember of want that sinks below his belt. A reminder that the night isn't over and there is still a lot to look forward to.
His eyes scan the party, curious what Tony is up to now. ]
[Tony's mostly been dancing with the handful of kids at the wedding - he might not act like it most of the time, but he's a sucker for kids, and they all love getting to dance with Iron Man (even if he's not wearing the suit). It gives him something to do that isn't the same old small talk and keeps him at the reception for the socially appropriate amount of time without dragging Steve off (or vice versa). It's been months and he still isn't sure how he fell into this ridiculous trap of maintaining Steve's virtue - what had started out as a joke when he'd found out about Steve's virginity had ended up as the most sexually frustrating period of Tony's entire life, and while he doesn't really regret it, he's a little concerned that months of teasing each other might have caused some permanent damage to important parts of his body.
Tony finishes up a dance with the latest little girl, who looks at him with big wide eyes, and he bows to her and kisses the air above the back of her hand. She giggles and scampers off, and Tony waves off the rest of the crowd, pleading exhaustion. Really, he can see Steve alone at the bar, and he hopes this means they can sneak out together.
Tony tries to look suave and calm as he saunters up to the bar and orders a martini.]
[ Steve's eyes find Tony just in time to catch the tail-end of his dance with the little girl. The amount of emotion that bubbles up in him at the sight is almost overwhelming; pressure builds in his chest as if a balloon were inflating just below his rib cage. He has never felt luckier.
Over the course of the day, Steve had to keep reminding himself that he is allowed to feel his feelings and show them. If ever there was a day for it, his wedding day would be it. By now, it has been a full twelve hours of indulging his mushiest side and Steve's walls are fully down. When Tony meets him at the bar, his face lights up with an enormously dopey smile. ]
Waiting for my husband. [ That word again. He may never tire of using it. ] A fella can't carry himself over the threshold.
[His husband. Tony still can't quite believe that it's all real - this bizarre combination of terror and joy and more love than he ever thought he was capable of feeling for anyone. Although he'd never admit it to anyone, he's been tearing up whenever he's had a moment to himself all day (including during the teeny tiny panic attack he had before the ceremony). But mostly, he's been staring at Steve the whole time, drinking in every single smile, every little bit of emotion, and reminding himself that it's all because of him. Somehow, he's managed to make another human being this happy, and it might be the best thing he's accomplished in his entire damn life.
Although saving the world is pretty important, too.
He takes the drink from the bartender - Tony doesn't have any cash on him, but he'll add a tip later - and tosses it back.]
If anyone could, it would probably be you. [Tony leans up and presses a kiss to the corner of Steve's lips.] Are we allowed to leave now? I think I've waited long enough to unwrap my wedding present.
Mmm. [ Steve curls his hand around Tony's tie and tugs him closer to deepen the kiss. Just being this close makes him feel hotter than any kiss without tongue has the right to. When he pulls away, he looks back at Tony with bright eyes, feeling flushed and dazed and just the slightest bit overwhelmed, but in a good way. There's a hair-raising sense of anticipation that comes with knowing where this is finally headed.
He slips his hand into Tony's. ] I think we've fulfilled our obligations. Let's get out of here.
[As much as Tony wants to pretend he's being romantic, his hands are very firmly on Steve's equally firm ass; it's just a damn shame that there are multiple layers of cloth in the way. He's been hard all day, and knowing that Steve wants this just as much only makes him more desperate. The only thing keeping him from dragging Steve off into the first convenient corner is the knowledge that Steve wants to do this right, which means that Tony can't just suck him off in the elevator before they even get to their suite.
(That's unfortunate, because Tony loves elevator debauchery.)
He reluctantly loosens his grip on Steve's ass, but only because Steve takes his hand instead.]
I still think you should've let me change into the suit and carry you over the threshold.
[ Tony isn't the only one who's been hard all day: Steve has been putting on a clinic in deceptive angling to avoid tenting his dress pants. Once or twice he had to slap himself out of a steamy daydream about the evening ahead. What Tony doesn't know, because he would absolutely use it to his advantage if he did, is that Steve is so desperately wound up by the time they find each other again, he almost considers giving up his virginity in the nearest supply closet. But they've sacrificed too long and are too close now to spoil it. Unbearable horniness aside, Steve really doesn't want to cheapen his wedding night. ]
If you put on the suit right now, nothing could stop me from dropping to my knees and choking on your dick. [ He says, like that's a bad thing. ] And as much as I want you, I don't want an audience.
[Tony is absolutely not going to survive being married to Steve, but at least he'll go out doing what - or, in this case, who - he loves. And it's worth it to hear Steve talk about choking on his dick; Tony's always been a fan of dirty talk, but Steve's voice takes it to a whole new level. He's pretty sure that Steve could probably get him off just by talking.]
Wouldn't be the first time I've done it in front of an audience. [Tony sounds relatively unbothered by this, but Tony may or may not be a bit of an exhibitionist and wouldn't bat an eyelash if Steve fucked him in the wreckage of their wedding cake. He'd be more annoyed about everyone seeing Steve in such an intimate position.]
C'mon. [Tony squeezes Steve's hand.] Clothes or no clothes, I'm about to be indecent, and you're probably already there.
[ For a 30-something-year-old virgin (or one-hundred-and-something, depending on your perspective) Steve gives great talk. He owes that skill to the preceding months of endless teasing, painfully blue balls, and occasional phone sex when things got to be especially unbearable. But in the end, he is all talk. The nervous energy humming under his skin serves as a reminder that he is ultimately out of his depth.
He squeezes Tony's hand back, then starts walking at full speed, dragging Tony after him. ] Let's make it an Irish goodbye. I can't be responsible for what I'll do if someone tries to start a conversation.
[Except it's less that and more the fact that Steve's a super-soldier and Tony can't keep up with him on a good day, let alone when Steve's anxious and horny. (He will say, though, that between carefully chaste dates with Steve and working off sexual frustration in the gym, he's in better shape than he has been since god knows when.)]
Will I look more undignified riding piggyback or letting you carry me?
Jog if you have to. [ Steve suggests, not slowing down for a moment. He doesn't check to see if Tony is keeping pace; his primary goal is to call the elevator down as quickly as possible. To that end, he beelines furiously toward the elevator bay, dodging hotel staff, guests, and luggage carts until he is within reach to smash his thumb into the up button.
It times out nicely: by the time he turns to check for Tony, the doors are pulling open behind him, and Steve gets to drag his husband into the elevator by his tie. ]
Jog, [Tony mutters under his breath, because Steve's idea of jogging is faster than most people run. If this was any other situation, he'd just stand back and watch Steve take the lobby like his own personal obstacle course, treating wheeled suitcases like hurdles and climbing over a luggage cart to clear the desk in one jump.
With a resigned sigh, Tony lets the nanites in his arc reactor form a second skin of metal from the waist down. He's tempted to just fly straight up to their room, but then Steve wouldn't get to carry him over the threshold. So instead, he jets over everyone's heads - thankfully the ceiling in the lobby is high enough to allow him to maneuver - and ignores all the onlookers pulling out their phones to get pictures.
Or at least he does until he lands by the elevator, and a brief EMP rolls out from his suit and shuts down everything in the vicinity. Sorry, guys, Tony loves publicity, but there are some things that should stay private.]
Here I thought I wouldn't be struggling to keep up with you till later.
[God, Tony would let Steve haul him around by his tie all day long. He swallows a whimper at the thought and does his very best to push Steve up against a wall instead. (Admittedly, any pushing he does is only because Steve allows it to happen - Tony has neither the muscle nor the weight to make him budge on his own.)]
If we had a longer ride, I'd be down on my knees right now.
[It's half-whispered, half-growled against Steve's lips, and the last few words are almost swallowed by a kiss that borders on obscene with the way Tony tries to shove his tongue down Steve's throat.]
[ In retrospect, Steve should have anticipated that Tony would do something unnecessary and ostentatious. It's funny: flying through the lobby is exactly the sort of thing that Steve would have criticized Tony for when they first met. Now, he has no ground to stand on: he signed up for this. And frankly, he won't complain about anything that gets them to the bedroom faster.
He lets Tony back him against the elevator's glossy wood paneling, pulling on Tony's tie as he goes, dragging him forward until their lips meet in a frantic kiss. Steve sinks into it, a desperate sound caught in his throat; he's keyed up in every sense.
Steve is so deep into the kiss that he doesn't realize they haven't indicated their destination until the doors begin to roll open again. ]
Shit, [ he breathes out in frustration, fumbling for the buttons to close the doors again even as he leans deeper into the kiss. Good call on that EMP because the lobby is treated to a rather intimate peek before Steve eventually jams the right button. ]
[Tony's practically straddling Steve (or as close as you can come while standing up) by the time the doors slide open, and he barely takes note of the ding. He's much more focused on angling his hips just right to grind against Steve's already-prominent erection. Talk about pushing buttons, wink wink nudge nudge.
Luckily, the penthouse suite occupies its own floor, so they don't have to worry about onlookers when the elevator settles to a stop. By then, Tony's twined his arms around Steve's neck, and if he doesn't have his legs wrapped around his waist, it's not for lack of trying.]
Totally could've sucked you off, [he mumbles against Steve's neck. At least, he thinks that's what he says; there isn't a whole lot of blood left in his brain right now.]
[ Steve puts some distance between his back and the wall to allow space for Tony's legs to wrap around his waist. He places the hand that isn't still tugging on Tony's tie under Tony's ass, not so much for support as it is to feel him up.
It's not quite the bridal carry he once imagined, but Steve does carry Tony over the threshold, then promptly backs him up against the nearest wall. In his frenzied state, he barely notices brushing up against a wobbly table, barely registers the crash of some centerpiece shattering when it hits the floor. He's busy grinding back against Tony, digging his fingers into the knot of his tie until it's loose enough to start working on the buttons of his shirt. ]
[Honestly, Tony expects a certain amount of wreckage that doesn't include his ass - Steve is Steve, after all, and super-soldier strength can wreak plenty of damage even when he's not trying. It's no big deal; he can afford to refurnish the entire hotel several times over without making a dent in his fortune.]
Not going for the romantic first time on the bed?
[Tony doesn't care, not as long as he gets to put his hands all over Steve. The main issue is that they both have way too many clothes on, especially Steve, and it's hard to remedy that when they're pressed together - which doesn't stop Tony from trying to tug at his jacket.]
Just making sure you're naked by the time we get there. [ Steve emphasizes with a tug that tears Tony's shirt open the rest of the way, the remaining buttons pulled loose and clattering to the floor between them. He plants both palms against Tony's chest and gets to the important work of feeling up his husband. This time, for the first time, there is real intent behind each slide of his hands against Tony's skin.
It's with great reluctance that Steve pulls his hands off of Tony for long enough to help shrug himself out of his own jacket. And then he's leaning in close again, closing his mouth over a pectoral muscle to suck a hickey above Tony's heart. ]
[During their courtship (there's a word Tony thought he would never use to describe any of his relationships), there's been a certain amount of getting to second base. And third base, and- let's just say that there aren't enough baseball analogies to describe the amount of sex they haven't had.
But now Steve's allowed to hit that out of the park home run, and he's going for it with gusto. Tony's a little self-conscious about his chest, and for good reason, but Steve's never shown any sign of caring about the scar tissue that surrounds the arc reactor. He touches Tony like you might handle a sacred object, and god, it's almost as good as the sight of him in just shirtsleeves, all those muscles straining against the fabric no matter how perfectly tailored the shirt is (and it is, because Tony insisted on nothing but the best for his wedding).
And if Tony admires the merchandise while Steve sucks a bruise into his skin just right, he can't be blamed, can he? After all, they're married now.]
Signing on the dotted line, huh? You know, people talk a big game about America's ass and all, but I've always been real partial to your lips.
[ It takes a moment for Tony's words to sink in, the way that Steve is multitasking (or trying to, anyway). One of his hands clumsily works at the buttons of his shirt collar while the other scrapes fingertips along Tony's ribs, all while his mouth applies enough suction to mark Tony's skin.
Signing on the dotted line, Tony calls it. Steve can't decide if it sounds more or less romantic than how he sees it: marking his territory. With how long they have waited for this moment, Steve won't be satisfied until Tony looks thoroughly debauched. ]
Mine, [ he manages to verbalize, although one could be forgiven for barely making out the word the way that Steve growls it out. He leaves his shirt half-undone so he can use both hands to pull Tony into a deep, possessive kiss that is punctuated with a filthy grind of his hips. ]
[Absolutely nothing in Tony's life has prepared him for how intensely arousing a possessive Steve Rogers is, and considering how much debauchery he's experienced, that's saying a lot. But the way Steve growls a single syllable makes Tony feel like he's been cloistered in a convent up till this very moment.
(This isn't how it's supposed to go, part of him protests. He's supposed to be the smooth, seductive one, and Steve's supposed to be a fumbling virgin. Tony emphatically tells that part of him to shut the hell up and enjoy the ride.)
Tony picks up where Steve left off with the buttons - or he tries to, anyway, but he gives up and just grabs Steve's ass with enthusiasm after a few moments, encouraging him to grind all he wants. Maybe not all he wants, because Tony very much wants that erection inside him sometime in the next three minutes. And to that end, he hums sinfully against Steve's lips (he really does love those lips).]
I got myself ready just for you, [he murmurs, dragging his lips over Steve's cheek to the shell of his ear.]
[ The sound that escapes Steve in response might best be described as a cross between a gasp and a whine; high-pitched, surprised, and above all needy. ]
What? When? [ The words breathed against Tony's cheek while Steve still shivers from the brushing of lips along his ear. He shakes his head, deciding the answer isn't urgent. ]
Never mind, not important. Bed, now. [ That's an order, Avenger. Even if it's delivered as Steve practically trips over his own feet to maneuver them beyond the foyer without having to separate. ]
[Never doubt what an innovative mind like Tony's can do with a little bit of time and a generous amount of lube. He just grins like the Cheshire Cat instead of answering Steve's question, feeling more like himself again (and, not incidentally, more like a man who is about to get railed into oblivion).
Tony is slightly more graceful when it comes to getting to the bed, though the actual arrival is pretty much a controlled fall - but considering their ultimate goal, falling is very much appropriate. As much as he wants to give Steve's erection the attention it so richly deserves, he knows what Steve wants, and so he fumbles with the fly of his own pants. He might have been wearing underwear for the ceremony (Cap briefs, in fact), but he sure as hell isn't now.]
[ Steve's eyes follow Tony's hands to the fly of his expensive suit pants, spurring him to reach for his own zipper. He doesn't get too far, his hands freezing in place when Tony's pants fall open to reveal his mouth-watering cock, as gorgeous and tempting as the rest of him. He needs a moment to stand there and take it all in: the sinful, inviting way that Tony is stretched across the bed, looking ripe for Steve's taking. ]
Look at you, [ he exhales in a stunned voice. He can't quite believe that it's all for him; they've delayed this for so long that he half expects some act of God to interrupt them now. But nothing and no one stops him from dropping his knees to the bed between Tony's legs, hovering above him as he resumes the task of pulling his own achingly hard cock from his pants. ]
I think the idea of getting married was so that we could do more than just look.
[Tony's voice is rough with arousal, with sheer need. He feels like he's going to explode if Steve isn't inside him within the next minute or so; he's been anticipating this moment all day, so that he's been at least half-hard the whole time. Now, watching Steve handle his own cock, he groans. God, even his dick looks like something carved from marble, and right now he assumes it's about as hard.
Tony pushes himself up to meet Steve in a kiss, sloppy and open-mouthed. He mostly just wants to touch him, to convince himself that this is real at last.]
[ The desperation in Tony's voice travels straight to Steve's dick. He is intimately familiar with that rough, sex-drenched tone by now; it's been the main thing to get him off since he and Tony have been together. But now he gets to do more than just listen over the phone while Tony describes all the things they can't yet do together. Now they finally get to go all the way.
The only thing slowing Steve down is the pressure he feels to make this perfect. They've been waiting too long for anything less. Also, there is a tiny voice in the back of his mind that says if he isn't great in bed, Tony will instantly regret marrying him. It's stupid— he knows that Tony wants him for more than sex; their relationship wouldn't have survived to this point otherwise— but it's there, making him fumble and hesitate as he gropes Tony's thighs and attempts to drag his pants off the rest of the way.
He's grateful for the kiss if only because their faces are too close for Tony to see the way his eyebrows are stitched together in concentration, betraying how he is overthinking his every move. A tentative hand travels beyond Tony's cock to find the tight, searing-hot furl of him, a thick finger pressing in to test how ready he really is. ]
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His husband. Just thinking the words brings an uncontrollable grin to Steve's face. He rubs the pad of his thumb against the band around his ring finger. Vibranium and a gold-titanium alloy hammered together to create a flowing pattern not unlike Damascus steel. His smile takes on a soft, dreamy quality when he thinks about Tony in that damned black tank top he always wears when forging, and the way it highlights every bead of sweat that drips down those strong arms of his. The image sparks an ember of want that sinks below his belt. A reminder that the night isn't over and there is still a lot to look forward to.
His eyes scan the party, curious what Tony is up to now. ]
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Tony finishes up a dance with the latest little girl, who looks at him with big wide eyes, and he bows to her and kisses the air above the back of her hand. She giggles and scampers off, and Tony waves off the rest of the crowd, pleading exhaustion. Really, he can see Steve alone at the bar, and he hopes this means they can sneak out together.
Tony tries to look suave and calm as he saunters up to the bar and orders a martini.]
Hey there, good-lookin'. You waiting for someone?
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Over the course of the day, Steve had to keep reminding himself that he is allowed to feel his feelings and show them. If ever there was a day for it, his wedding day would be it. By now, it has been a full twelve hours of indulging his mushiest side and Steve's walls are fully down. When Tony meets him at the bar, his face lights up with an enormously dopey smile. ]
Waiting for my husband. [ That word again. He may never tire of using it. ] A fella can't carry himself over the threshold.
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Although saving the world is pretty important, too.
He takes the drink from the bartender - Tony doesn't have any cash on him, but he'll add a tip later - and tosses it back.]
If anyone could, it would probably be you. [Tony leans up and presses a kiss to the corner of Steve's lips.] Are we allowed to leave now? I think I've waited long enough to unwrap my wedding present.
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He slips his hand into Tony's. ] I think we've fulfilled our obligations. Let's get out of here.
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[As much as Tony wants to pretend he's being romantic, his hands are very firmly on Steve's equally firm ass; it's just a damn shame that there are multiple layers of cloth in the way. He's been hard all day, and knowing that Steve wants this just as much only makes him more desperate. The only thing keeping him from dragging Steve off into the first convenient corner is the knowledge that Steve wants to do this right, which means that Tony can't just suck him off in the elevator before they even get to their suite.
(That's unfortunate, because Tony loves elevator debauchery.)
He reluctantly loosens his grip on Steve's ass, but only because Steve takes his hand instead.]
I still think you should've let me change into the suit and carry you over the threshold.
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If you put on the suit right now, nothing could stop me from dropping to my knees and choking on your dick. [ He says, like that's a bad thing. ] And as much as I want you, I don't want an audience.
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Wouldn't be the first time I've done it in front of an audience. [Tony sounds relatively unbothered by this, but Tony may or may not be a bit of an exhibitionist and wouldn't bat an eyelash if Steve fucked him in the wreckage of their wedding cake. He'd be more annoyed about everyone seeing Steve in such an intimate position.]
C'mon. [Tony squeezes Steve's hand.] Clothes or no clothes, I'm about to be indecent, and you're probably already there.
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He squeezes Tony's hand back, then starts walking at full speed, dragging Tony after him. ] Let's make it an Irish goodbye. I can't be responsible for what I'll do if someone tries to start a conversation.
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[Except it's less that and more the fact that Steve's a super-soldier and Tony can't keep up with him on a good day, let alone when Steve's anxious and horny. (He will say, though, that between carefully chaste dates with Steve and working off sexual frustration in the gym, he's in better shape than he has been since god knows when.)]
Will I look more undignified riding piggyback or letting you carry me?
[Slowing down is clearly not an option.]
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It times out nicely: by the time he turns to check for Tony, the doors are pulling open behind him, and Steve gets to drag his husband into the elevator by his tie. ]
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With a resigned sigh, Tony lets the nanites in his arc reactor form a second skin of metal from the waist down. He's tempted to just fly straight up to their room, but then Steve wouldn't get to carry him over the threshold. So instead, he jets over everyone's heads - thankfully the ceiling in the lobby is high enough to allow him to maneuver - and ignores all the onlookers pulling out their phones to get pictures.
Or at least he does until he lands by the elevator, and a brief EMP rolls out from his suit and shuts down everything in the vicinity. Sorry, guys, Tony loves publicity, but there are some things that should stay private.]
Here I thought I wouldn't be struggling to keep up with you till later.
[God, Tony would let Steve haul him around by his tie all day long. He swallows a whimper at the thought and does his very best to push Steve up against a wall instead. (Admittedly, any pushing he does is only because Steve allows it to happen - Tony has neither the muscle nor the weight to make him budge on his own.)]
If we had a longer ride, I'd be down on my knees right now.
[It's half-whispered, half-growled against Steve's lips, and the last few words are almost swallowed by a kiss that borders on obscene with the way Tony tries to shove his tongue down Steve's throat.]
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He lets Tony back him against the elevator's glossy wood paneling, pulling on Tony's tie as he goes, dragging him forward until their lips meet in a frantic kiss. Steve sinks into it, a desperate sound caught in his throat; he's keyed up in every sense.
Steve is so deep into the kiss that he doesn't realize they haven't indicated their destination until the doors begin to roll open again. ]
Shit, [ he breathes out in frustration, fumbling for the buttons to close the doors again even as he leans deeper into the kiss. Good call on that EMP because the lobby is treated to a rather intimate peek before Steve eventually jams the right button. ]
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Luckily, the penthouse suite occupies its own floor, so they don't have to worry about onlookers when the elevator settles to a stop. By then, Tony's twined his arms around Steve's neck, and if he doesn't have his legs wrapped around his waist, it's not for lack of trying.]
Totally could've sucked you off, [he mumbles against Steve's neck. At least, he thinks that's what he says; there isn't a whole lot of blood left in his brain right now.]
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It's not quite the bridal carry he once imagined, but Steve does carry Tony over the threshold, then promptly backs him up against the nearest wall. In his frenzied state, he barely notices brushing up against a wobbly table, barely registers the crash of some centerpiece shattering when it hits the floor. He's busy grinding back against Tony, digging his fingers into the knot of his tie until it's loose enough to start working on the buttons of his shirt. ]
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Not going for the romantic first time on the bed?
[Tony doesn't care, not as long as he gets to put his hands all over Steve. The main issue is that they both have way too many clothes on, especially Steve, and it's hard to remedy that when they're pressed together - which doesn't stop Tony from trying to tug at his jacket.]
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It's with great reluctance that Steve pulls his hands off of Tony for long enough to help shrug himself out of his own jacket. And then he's leaning in close again, closing his mouth over a pectoral muscle to suck a hickey above Tony's heart. ]
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But now Steve's allowed to hit that out of the park home run, and he's going for it with gusto. Tony's a little self-conscious about his chest, and for good reason, but Steve's never shown any sign of caring about the scar tissue that surrounds the arc reactor. He touches Tony like you might handle a sacred object, and god, it's almost as good as the sight of him in just shirtsleeves, all those muscles straining against the fabric no matter how perfectly tailored the shirt is (and it is, because Tony insisted on nothing but the best for his wedding).
And if Tony admires the merchandise while Steve sucks a bruise into his skin just right, he can't be blamed, can he? After all, they're married now.]
Signing on the dotted line, huh? You know, people talk a big game about America's ass and all, but I've always been real partial to your lips.
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Signing on the dotted line, Tony calls it. Steve can't decide if it sounds more or less romantic than how he sees it: marking his territory. With how long they have waited for this moment, Steve won't be satisfied until Tony looks thoroughly debauched. ]
Mine, [ he manages to verbalize, although one could be forgiven for barely making out the word the way that Steve growls it out. He leaves his shirt half-undone so he can use both hands to pull Tony into a deep, possessive kiss that is punctuated with a filthy grind of his hips. ]
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(This isn't how it's supposed to go, part of him protests. He's supposed to be the smooth, seductive one, and Steve's supposed to be a fumbling virgin. Tony emphatically tells that part of him to shut the hell up and enjoy the ride.)
Tony picks up where Steve left off with the buttons - or he tries to, anyway, but he gives up and just grabs Steve's ass with enthusiasm after a few moments, encouraging him to grind all he wants. Maybe not all he wants, because Tony very much wants that erection inside him sometime in the next three minutes. And to that end, he hums sinfully against Steve's lips (he really does love those lips).]
I got myself ready just for you, [he murmurs, dragging his lips over Steve's cheek to the shell of his ear.]
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What? When? [ The words breathed against Tony's cheek while Steve still shivers from the brushing of lips along his ear. He shakes his head, deciding the answer isn't urgent. ]
Never mind, not important. Bed, now. [ That's an order, Avenger. Even if it's delivered as Steve practically trips over his own feet to maneuver them beyond the foyer without having to separate. ]
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Tony is slightly more graceful when it comes to getting to the bed, though the actual arrival is pretty much a controlled fall - but considering their ultimate goal, falling is very much appropriate. As much as he wants to give Steve's erection the attention it so richly deserves, he knows what Steve wants, and so he fumbles with the fly of his own pants. He might have been wearing underwear for the ceremony (Cap briefs, in fact), but he sure as hell isn't now.]
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Look at you, [ he exhales in a stunned voice. He can't quite believe that it's all for him; they've delayed this for so long that he half expects some act of God to interrupt them now. But nothing and no one stops him from dropping his knees to the bed between Tony's legs, hovering above him as he resumes the task of pulling his own achingly hard cock from his pants. ]
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[Tony's voice is rough with arousal, with sheer need. He feels like he's going to explode if Steve isn't inside him within the next minute or so; he's been anticipating this moment all day, so that he's been at least half-hard the whole time. Now, watching Steve handle his own cock, he groans. God, even his dick looks like something carved from marble, and right now he assumes it's about as hard.
Tony pushes himself up to meet Steve in a kiss, sloppy and open-mouthed. He mostly just wants to touch him, to convince himself that this is real at last.]
Steve, please, [he mumbles against Steve's lips.]
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The only thing slowing Steve down is the pressure he feels to make this perfect. They've been waiting too long for anything less. Also, there is a tiny voice in the back of his mind that says if he isn't great in bed, Tony will instantly regret marrying him. It's stupid— he knows that Tony wants him for more than sex; their relationship wouldn't have survived to this point otherwise— but it's there, making him fumble and hesitate as he gropes Tony's thighs and attempts to drag his pants off the rest of the way.
He's grateful for the kiss if only because their faces are too close for Tony to see the way his eyebrows are stitched together in concentration, betraying how he is overthinking his every move. A tentative hand travels beyond Tony's cock to find the tight, searing-hot furl of him, a thick finger pressing in to test how ready he really is. ]
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