[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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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.