[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. ]
[Tony doesn't need to see Steve to feel the tension in his muscles, and although he doesn't know all his concerns, he can guess that Steve's worried about being a clumsy virgin. He kisses Steve's lower lip, a little more focused this time, trying to encourage him to relax.
Of course, for Tony, relaxing is next to impossible when he's got one of Steve's fingers pressing into him. He's trying not to go feral at the smallest amount of stimulation, but it's hard - he doesn't care if it's perfect, right now he just wants Steve. Tony doesn't expect perfect sex - doesn't believe there is any such thing, because it doesn't matter. (And who knew that Tony Stark, professional hedonist, was really a romantic at heart? Well, besides Steve.)]
[ The kiss muffles an almost pained sound that dies in Steve's throat; Tony still feels impossibly tight and he can't imagine how he'll fit. At the same time, he feels almost wild with all-consuming need to bury himself inside. Steve is still mostly clothed, a fact he is idly aware of, somewhere in the furthest recesses of his mind. It's not a priority. His kissing goes clumsy and uncoordinated as he reaches down to guide the head of his dick up against Tony's hole, giving a careful first push that has him whining and seeing stars. He has barely worked the head of his dick in when he starts gasping against Tony's open mouth. ]
Oh fuck, Tony, you feel— [ He breaks off into heavy, exhilarated breaths, which is just as well. There aren't words to describe how incredible Tony feels. ]
[With anyone else, Tony would have just pushed them back on the bed and climbed on to take matters into his own hands, but he physically can't do that with Steve, as much as he wants to. But finally, finally Steve starts to push in slowly, and oh fucking Christ, it's a good thing they're married because Steve is going to ruin him for anyone else.]
Steve, [he manages to half-pant, half-moan.] Oh god, Steve. [Steve is perfect, everything is perfect, this is all he wants in life (apart from more of Steve's dick).]
[ Time stretches into eternity as Steve continues to sink in, his free hand reaching up to caress Tony's face, his every breath a hot gasp against Tony's lips. His wide-eyed, enraptured gaze watches closely for encouragement or signs of discomfort from Tony, taking in every nonverbal cue to keep moving. And keep moving he does, pushing in until he's all the way in, closer to Tony than he ever knew two people could be. It takes everything in him to hold still, then, letting Tony adjust to the stretch of him; he runs a hand through Tony's sweat-damp hair and presses their foreheads together and breathes through it. ]
[Tony just keeps taking deep breaths and reminding himself to relax - the last thing his body wants to do right now - as Steve stretches him out past a point he thought was possible. Steve finally bottoms out, every last inch of him buried inside Tony, and god, it was worth waiting for this moment, for Steve's forehead pressed against his and his breath mingling with Tony's. He shifts his body a little, wraps his legs around Steve's waist and lets him settle at a new angle. His cock aches for more, leaking where it's trapped between the two of them, and Tony gives in.]
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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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Of course, for Tony, relaxing is next to impossible when he's got one of Steve's fingers pressing into him. He's trying not to go feral at the smallest amount of stimulation, but it's hard - he doesn't care if it's perfect, right now he just wants Steve. Tony doesn't expect perfect sex - doesn't believe there is any such thing, because it doesn't matter. (And who knew that Tony Stark, professional hedonist, was really a romantic at heart? Well, besides Steve.)]
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Oh fuck, Tony, you feel— [ He breaks off into heavy, exhilarated breaths, which is just as well. There aren't words to describe how incredible Tony feels. ]
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Steve, [he manages to half-pant, half-moan.] Oh god, Steve. [Steve is perfect, everything is perfect, this is all he wants in life (apart from more of Steve's dick).]
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C'mon, Steve, fuck me.