[ 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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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.