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Chapter Text

Steve shifted on his stool, frowning at the dingy barroom. Even the jukebox was boring as shit tonight. Couldn't anyone with a spare quarter think of anything more interesting than "Don't Stop Believing" to play? Christ.

Tonight was a bust anyway. The wild wind storms meant fewer people passing through town, and strangers were the only way Steve made any money. Not that he wouldn't fuck a local, just that they were all as poor as he was.

He knocked back the rest of his drink, wincing when ice cubes unstuck themselves and tumbled against his lips, then turned to go.

The door opened before he could push himself up off his stool, and the most beautiful suit Steve had ever seen walked into the bar, wrapped, with perfectly-tailored perfection, around the most beautiful man Steve had ever seen. His dark hair was swept up from the wind in a way that managed to look gorgeously on purpose, and his goatee was even and clean and drew the eye to his angular cheekbones. The man shuffled over to the bar, sunglasses untouched on his face and collapsed into the seat next to Steve with a sigh. He waved a finger at the bartender and ordered a drink in a low voice.

"Wow," Steve said, still hovering halfway off his stool.

The man turned, as if noticing Steve for the first time. "What?"

"We don't usually get suits like that in a place like this."

A hint of a smile played with the edges of the man's mouth. "Well, I've had a bit of a day."

Steve smiled. He stood up and cocked his hip against the edge of the bar, leaning into the edges of the other man's boundaries. "Treat me right and I can give you a bit of a night too."

The man watched him for a long time, long enough that Steve had to resist the urge to shuffle where he stood. On another night, when plenty of lonely assholes would toss him fifty bucks for a blowjob in the bathroom, Steve would have rolled his eyes, flipped this guy off for wasting his time and moved on, but tonight, this was the only chance he was going to have to make rent this week.

Finally, the man finished his careful appraisal. He tugged off his sunglasses and revealed bright, clever, brown eyes and a wicked black eye. "How right?" he asked.

"Three hundred."

The man snorted, and Steve worried he'd pushed it too far, but then the man smiled indulgently. "Is it always three hundred or just for a suit like this?" His drink arrived, and he knocked back the whole thing in one go then tossed a fifty on the bartop.

Steve smirked, pushed a little closer. "Just the suit."

The man hummed, consideringly, but his hand twitched out, and he hooked a finger through one of the belt loops on Steve's jeans. He guided Steve closer until he could lean in and whisper, "You got a place we can go?"

"Yeah, my apartment is just around the corner," Steve said. "You got a name?"

"Tony. You?"

"Steve."

They didn't shake hands, and their gazes didn't unlock.

Tony's fingers twitched against Steve's hip. He pulled his phone out with his other hand, stared at it for a moment, scowling, then tucked it back in his pocket. "Alright. I need to lie low tonight. How about five hundred, plus the suit, and you trade me for something a little less conspicuous to wear and put me up for the night?"

Steve laughed. "What on earth would I do with a suit like that? It won't even fit me, not that I'd have anywhere to wear it."

Tony shrugged. "You can sell it. It's worth at least a thousand bucks, even used. I need to blend in better, but I can't be seen in a store, and I can't use my cards right now."

Steve's eyes narrowed. He shuffled back a bit, nudging up the brim of his baseball hat. "How you gonna pay me, then?"

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Brooklyn, huh? Only comes out when you're pissed off." He laughed when Steve frowned. "I've got cash. I'll pay you as soon as we get to your place. Up front."

Steve nodded slowly. Honestly, that was better than he usually got. More than once, he'd had to chase some asshole down the street and shove them up against a wall to get paid. More than once, he'd gotten stitches instead. He fluttered his eyelashes at Tony. "Pay my tab as a sign of good faith?" He ran the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip. Even if this guy turned out to be full of shit, he'd have drunk for free, at the very least.

Tony snorted again then tossed two more fifties on the bartop without asking how much it would have been. Steve tried not to gape, but the bartender had no such control. She scooped the bills up and stared openly at Tony. He pulled his sunglasses back on, gave her a nod, then, in a surprisingly gentle gesture, grabbed Steve's hand and led him out of the bar.

When they hit the sidewalk, Tony curled in around himself, away from the wind, and Steve shifted to put his body between the street and Tony's, creating a windblock. He was used to the cold.

"Well?" Tony said. "Lead on, Macduff."

Steve shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and set off down the street, and Tony pressed in close against him, one arm tucked through the the crook of Steve's elbow. When he started to shiver, Steve held his pocket open and raised a questioning eyebrow at Tony. Tony frowned, but shoved his hand in the pocket with Steve's, winding their fingers together. He was like ice. Steve squeezed his hand.

"You know the quote is actually, 'Lay on, Macduff.'"

"What?"

"The quote. People always get it wrong," Steve said, memories of his mother ranting at the dinner table, a vision surrounded by reference books, glasses pushed up on top of her head, shoved into his mind. She was a nurse, but literature was her passion.

Tony hummed, then said, softly, the wind nearly whipping his words away before Steve could catch them, "Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him that first cries, Hold, enough!" He looked up from the sidewalk to meet Steve's gaze, eyes bright and full of something heated and challenging. It fizzed under Steve's skin.

They walked the rest of the way in silence - it wasn't more than a few blocks to Steve's apartment. He kicked a brick over and dug his key out from underneath, then led Tony up the back fire escape to his door.

"Really?" Tony curled his lip. "You just showed a perfect stranger where your key is. I could come back and rob you anytime."

"Feel free." Steve shrugged, flicking on lights and ramping up the thermostat. He dropped his jacket on the lone hook by the door. The heater buzzed to life. "Nothin' worth stealin' anyway."

Tony shot Steve a predatory grin and slunk closer, giving off waves of sexual tension despite his blue lips and the slight shaking of his lean frame. "There's that Brooklyn again."

Steve laid it on thick. "Keep bringin' it up, and I'll think ya like it or somethin'." He smirked.

"Maybe I do…" His eyes raked over Steve's body, scraping down him from head to foot, unabashed and appreciative. Steve shuffled closer, rubbed his hands up and down Tony's upper arms to warm them. He leaned in and pressed their lips together, and Tony melted into the kiss.

Then he pulled back. "You don't have to do that," Tony murmured. He dug his wallet out and handed Steve five hundreds, sleek and unwrinkled. It was the cleanest money Steve had ever held. "I really meant it when I said I just need a place to hang out for the night."

Steve didn't push, but he looked up from under his eyelashes and smiled, as invitingly as he could. He wasn't used to having to work for it. "What else are we going to do all night? Braid each others hair and watch the faucet leak? I don't even have a TV."

Tony didn't back off as Steve slunk into his space again. "You know, I noticed that faucet when I came in. I could fix that for you."

Steve brushed their noses together. "Or…" He kissed Tony again.

But Tony was still tense and uncertain under his hands. He gave to the kiss, grabbing Steve's belt to tug their bodies tight together, but there was some hesitation still stiffening his spine.

"It's okay, Tony. You can have whatever you want. I'm happy to give it to you." He ground his hips forward so Tony could feel his rapidly growing erection pressing into his stomach.

Tony froze. "Anything?"

Steve eased off a bit. "Why? What do you want?"

"I - I like…" Tony's fingers trailed down Steve's chest then wrapped around his hip bone. "I like control." He flashed his eyes up to Steve's. "I won't hurt you but I like to have my way. I get pushy sometimes."

Steve studied him carefully for a moment, weighing his options. He was pretty sure Tony would back off if he said no, heck it had taken a crowbar to get him to agree to the sex he'd paid for. And it wasn't like the thought of Tony dominating him wasn't making Steve's pants unfairly tight. But it was risky to do with a client, a stranger. Still, for some unfathomable reason, he trusted Tony. "You'll stop if I say stop?"

"Of course. I'm only going to enjoy it if you are."

Steve took three steps backwards. He tugged his shirt off then worked his belt open, letting the ends hang loose while he unbuttoned his jeans. He rolled the zipper down, revealing the waistband of his white boxer briefs, but he didn't take them or his jeans off. He dropped to his knees on the old shag rug that covered the floor around his bed then rolled his eyes slowly up from the floor to Tony's face. He let out a breath. "Well, then. Lay on, Macduff."

Tony crossed the rug in three quick steps and stopped in front of Steve, close enough that his toes touched the inside of Steve's thighs. He scraped his nails over Steve's scalp, running his hair through his fingers. "Fuck, you're so goddamn pretty," Tony muttered, and a flush of heat prickled down Steve's chest to his cock.

Tony took one hand out of Steve's hair and stroked his thumb over Steve's bottom lip. He levered his mouth open, and Steve took his thumb between his lips, sucking lightly, a promise and a tease. He kept his eyes fixed up on Tony's.

"Bet you suck cock like a fucking champion, don't you?" Tony said softly, urgent but controlled.

Steve nodded.

"Had enough practice, haven't you? You're so filthy." Tony's fingers tightened in Steve's hair.

He flushed again, skin tingling with heat. The way Tony said it wasn't an accusation, wasn't degrading, it was appreciative, and yet still, a fiery, smouldering kind of humiliation flickered to life in Steve's belly. No one had ever talked to Steve quite that way before. He'd been told he was dirt, nothing, useless, worthless. He'd been accused of all manner of things from stealing to dealing to turning homophobic dickholes temporarily gay with his pretty eyes and tempting mouth.

But what Tony was whispering, fingers of one hand still caught in Steve's hair, the other hanging over his chin as he sucked his thumb, these words were electric, laden with want and illicit temptation. Desire. Tony thought he was filthy, and he wanted that for himself, wallowed in it.

"Such a pretty slut." Tony hesitated, only for a heartbeat, but Steve noticed. It was the moment that Steve could glare, bite down even - just a little - let him know he didn't like it. But his cock throbbed heavy between his legs, and Tony's low, liquid voice was filling up his head and making him dizzy and muggy and god, so horny. If Tony hadn't arrived after Steve's last drink, he'd wonder if he'd been drugged.

Steve hummed in agreement and sucked harder, rolling his tongue around Tony's thumb, showing him how good he could be. He wanted to be so good for Tony.

"Do you have condoms?" Tony asked.

Steve nodded. Tony pulled back, giving Steve space to suck in a clear breath again, but when he moved to stand, Tony reached out and settled one finger on Steve's shoulder, pinning him to the floor. "Like that," Tony said.

Steve kept his eyes on Tony as he shuffled across the rug on his knees, his undone pants slipping down over his ass and catching around his thighs. Tony's gaze was fixed on Steve's body, tracing the curve of his waist and the clenching and releasing of his abs but ignoring his face. Steve had been hooking for four years, and he'd never felt so mouthwateringly objectified before in his life.

Tony settled on the edge of the bed while Steve pulled open the drawer of the end table and took out a strip of condoms. He threw them on the bedspread, then placed a bottle of lube conspicuously on top of the table. Tony leaned back on his elbows, legs spread over the edge of the bed and looked at Steve then at his own crotch.

Steve didn't need to be told once.

He crawled up between Tony's legs and went to work on his clothes. He pushed Tony's jacket off his shoulders then worked his way down the buttons of his shirt, revealing a lean but chiseled chest and shapely abs with just the slightest soft layer over top. He undid Tony's belt and then his pants. Tony lifted his hips and let Steve strip everything off, leaving him naked from the waist down, with nothing but his open shirt on above.

Steve took a moment to enjoy the view then bent down to kiss his way up the inside of Tony's thigh. Tony's cock was hard, a drop of precome leaking from the slit, and Steve settled his hand around it, stroking loosely, slowly, just enough to keep him interested. Tony moaned softly and tipped his head back, only to bring it back up to look down and watch. Steve pressed his face into the crease of Tony's hip and breathed in. He smelled good. Like expensive body wash, fancy enough that it almost smelled like nothing, but there was this underlying mouthwatering spice he caught. It melded so seamlessly with his skin that Steve wondered if Tony didn't just smell that good naturally.

Before he could get sucked into testing if Tony tasted that good too, Steve grabbed a condom and opened it. He rolled it down over Tony's cock then followed it with his mouth. Tony let loose with a string of curses that made Steve drop his hand to press against his cock and slow the roll of arousal that plowed through him.

Steve knew how to get a man off. He knew how to work his lips and tongue, he knew how to apply the right suction, he knew when to back off a little and when to push. He'd gotten good at bringing his clients right to the edge fast enough that he made good money but thorough that they felt like it was worth what they paid.

But in the face of Tony's pleasure, all of Steve's gifts for efficiency evaporated. He forgot about getting Tony off and sunk into the bone-deep satisfaction of the cut-off gasps Tony made when he sucked him down his throat, the tightening of long, powerful fingers in his hair when he darted his tongue out as he pulled back, and the twitching of the small muscles in Tony's legs when Steve ran both hands up his thighs.

"Oh god, you're such a filthy little cocksucker," Tony breathed, his fingers tightening again in Steve's hair. "You're so good at that, shit. I could stay like this all night, just hold you here -" his hand demonstrated how easily he could "- make you suck me all night."

Steve moaned around Tony's cock at the thought. His own erection throbbing between his legs. Shit, he was going to come just from sucking Tony off, and if that wasn't embarrassing, he didn't know what was. But he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember the score of the last game he'd listened to on the radio and the rush of oncoming pleasure receded again. He focused on the feel of Tony, heavy and hot on his tongue, and the subtle twitches of his fingers that guided Steve's movements.

"Let me -" Tony said, then cut himself off.

Steve sat back, flicking his eyes up to Tony's. He could see there what he wanted. It flushed over his skin, banishing the last of the cold. Lots of guys wanted it, but Steve didn't trust any of them not to choke him, hurt him, so he always made sure he kept some degree of control. But reason and logic and fear were banished in the face of the careful way Tony regarded him from the bed, a soft plea, a dark promise, and Steve nodded.

Tony sprung to his feet as Steve settled back, legs kicked out in front of him, leaned against the edge of the mattress. Tony petted his fingers along Steve's jaw and through his hair, then gently levered his mouth open with his thumb again. He stood over Steve, looming above him with a foot on either side of his hips. Tony pressed on the back of Steve's tongue for moment, eyes locked. He radiated unyielding authority, and Steve melted slowly into a new kind of peace. Tony could do whatever he wanted; Steve would like it. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth wider.

Tony pressed his cock between Steve's lips then rocked back until he was almost all the way out. The next thrust was rougher, and he held Steve's face still with hand on either cheek, rocking in and out of his mouth progressively faster and firmer.

Steve let his eyes fall shut and sunk into the relief of letting go of control. Despite Tony's firm hands, he was gentle, being sure never to push past the edge of Steve's ability to take him. He clearly didn't want Steve to choke - the way a lot of men did - he just wanted to be the one controlling his own pleasure, their pace, and Steve was happy to give it up this time.

Tony kept talking, spilling praise and curses and telling Steve how deliciously filthy he was over and over. Steve focused on the rise and fall of his voice, the warmth of Tony's thighs under his hands where he'd rested them. Steve was sweating now, hot and flushed all over. His cock ached to be touched, and he knew he could drop a hand and sneak it in his pants, but he didn't want to, not until Tony told him.

But Tony was only focused on himself, right now, fucking into Steve's mouth and down his throat with an ever-increasing franticness. "Shit, Steve." Tony fell to his hands, braced on the mattress, arcing over Steve. His legs shook but he didn't slow his pace. Spit dribbled down Steve's chin, and he swallowed, not wanting to choke. Tony tipped up onto his toes then he pressed forward and came with a groan, spilling into the condom with one hand on the mattress behind Steve's head and the other hauling back on Steve's hair.

Steve quirked an eyebrow up like, "Was that it?" and Tony laughed. He pulled free and tugged off the condom. He petted his fingers through Steve's hair, soothing his abused scalp.

"We've got all night, don't we?" Tony said, and Steve swallowed heavily. He pressed his palm to his cock. Fuck, Tony was going to leave him like this. He groaned and tipped sideways onto the rug, and Tony laughed again. "You're something, aren't you?" he said, under his breath.

Steve got up to wash the taste of condom out of his mouth, and Tony dug around in his discarded pants until he came up with his phone. He poked at it for a while, then dialled a number and spoke in rapid, fluid Italian for a few minutes. Steve tried not to stare. Tony became more mysterious with every passing minute. Steve drank a cold glass of water from a chipped mug and willed his erection to subside. Tony clearly planned on having his way with him a few times before Steve got to come. If he'd let him come at all.

"Hey, Steve, what about those clothes?" Tony asked.

"Oh yeah, sure." Steve opened his closet, or rather, kicked aside the bin of old books that blocked his closet and dug around inside. He found a t-shirt that was too small for him now and a pair of jeans that he liked but would probably look better on Tony anyway. With the money Tony was paying him, he could buy another pair. He tossed them over, and Tony pulled the jeans on but left his dress shirt unbuttoned over his chest instead of putting on the t-shirt.

Tony stood and walked over, stroking his palm over Steve's chest, then teasing two fingers into the waistband of his underwear. Steve swallowed heavily and tried not to rock against Tony's forearm. When the knock on the door came, they both jumped.

"I'll get it!" Tony said, and he wrenched the door open before Steve could stop him. The mouthwatering scent of tomatoes and garlic wafted in with the cool outside air and filled the tiny studio apartment. Tony traded a wad of cash for far too many white, plastic bags, thanked the driver at the door, then turned back to Steve. "I was hungry. You don't mind Italian, do you?"

Steve's stomach rumbled in reply. He'd been living off rice and mysterious things in cans for so long. The drinks at the bar, justifying his presence there, were sometimes the most calories he got in a day, and if it weren't for Daisy the bartender testing her bizarre health-food smoothies on him, he wouldn't be able to get enough protein to keep the physique that pulled him more Johns than anything else.

But Tony kept unpacking container after container like it was nothing, like it was normal, and Steve's stomach ached with a different kind of desire.

"Don't just stand there with your teeth in your mouth," Tony said lightly. "I sure as shit can't eat all this on my own. Plus you'd better carb-a-load for round two." He winked.

When Steve didn't reply, Tony settled a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you alright?" He petted Steve gently. "I'm just kidding, you know. We don't have to go again if you don't want to. Only you seemed to have a good time, and I've got plans for that undoubtedly gorgeous dick of yours, but no pressure. I'm just shelling out for the crash pad, everything else is icing."

Steve blinked back into himself. "No, no. It's not that… I just forgot you could, like, order food, and it would just appear…"

Tony frowned. "Look, I get that the light living thing you've got going on here probably isn't because you read that minimalism was good for your chi in Chatelaine, but you're doing alright, right? Like, you're okay, Steve? You seem okay, but… I don't know how to -" Tony looked around wildly as if there'd be some rating painted on the wall. Steve Rogers is a 5 out of 10 on the 'Alright' scale.

Steve shook his head. "I'm fine, really. Sorry, I zoned out a bit there. I'm just... saving up for something, and I haven't had the spare cash for fancy takeout in a long time, that's all. It's nice. Really nice." He smiled at Tony, then reached out and squeezed his wrist. "Thank you." He crossed the kitchen and pulled out plates, forks, and paper towels.

Tony waved his hand dismissively, his cheeks pinking a bit. "Whatever, it's, you know. Gotta eat. Plus, like I said, carb-a-load, cause I plan to burn some calories with you, hot stuff. If you're up for it."

Steve made no promises. He did want to have more sex, quite desperately, really, but he also didn't want to say yes, and then have to back down later if he changed his mind. Tony sounded like he'd respect Steve if he said no, but he also didn't want to get his hopes up. Besides, Steve had to cling to the one last bit of control he had over this night, this wild, unexpected, off-the-rails night. It was starting to feel a little bit like a dream.

Also quite a bit like a date.

And Steve only had one slick move, and he rarely had the chance to use it. He shrugged to himself. Why the fuck not?

"Get your food and come with me," he said to Tony with a smile.

Tony quirked head in curiosity, but didn't ask, letting Steve take the reins for now. Steve hauled all the blankets off the bed then set them in a pile by the doorway to the tiny hall that split into the bathroom and the closet. He eyed Tony up for a moment then ruffled through his closet. He came up with two, large, cosy hoodies. He draped one over Tony's head. "Put that on."

"Bossy," Tony muttered with a smirk, but he set his plate down and tugged on the sweater, raising an eyebrow at Steve when the sleeves came down over his hands.

"You'll thank me in a minute," Steve said. He opened the hatch in the ceiling, over the bathroom door, and let the ladder fall down to the floor. He grabbed the armful of bedding and dragged it up then went back down for Tony and his own plate of food.

Everything looked incredible, so he piled his plate high with garlic bread and pasta and mysterious looking mushroom things in a very close relationship with a sinful amount of cheese. With his plate piled high, Steve urged Tony up the ladder.

"Is this where you keep your murder room?" Tony asked lightly, worked his way up awkwardly, one rung at a time, balancing his plate in one hand.

"Yup." Steve crawled up behind him.

Tony stopped at the top of the ladder, and Steve had to nudge him out of the way to bring the blankets up.

"Wow." Tony gazed out over the town. The building wasn't that tall but it was up on a hill, and the valley broke below them, the lights of downtown flickering in the growing dark. Steve had made a windbreak with an old panel of windows he'd found by the street one day, and if you sat with your back against the chimney, it was warm and cozy.

He fluffed up the blankets into a nest and drew Tony down with him. This way, they could see the lights flickering at the feet, and then, as the sun dropped all the way down, the stars would come out above them. It was movie-levels of romantic, and Steve tried to summon some discomfort about taking a client up here, but it seemed right. And Tony seemed to appreciate it.

"Nice murder room you've got up here."

Steve snickered. "Yeah, well I like my victims to have a nice view."

Steve folded one blanket then tucked Tony against his side and wrapped the other around their shoulders. He pulled Tony's hood up over his head, earning an eye roll. It took a few minutes, but eventually Tony relaxed, leaning into Steve's side and digging into his food, the too-long sleeve falling into his tomato sauce more than once.

The food was incredible, and for a while, all Steve could do was eat and savour.

"So what are you saving for?" Tony asked, once they'd each slowed down. He picked an ignored olive off Steve's plate and stuck it in his mouth.

"Hmm?"

"You said you didn't order takeout because you were saving for something."

There was just enough disbelief under the words that Steve knew Tony had seen through his cover. He was saving, but it was slow going. He scraped together what he needed to live on, and anything extra went in a jar at the back of the freezer, but it was awfully light still.

"Going home," he admitted quietly, surprising himself with his honesty.

"Brooklyn?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. I grew up there, but when my mom died I took off. Been kinda running wild since then but it's where I'd like to end up. Some day."

Tony nodded, but didn't say anything, picking at the remains of a meatball on his plate.

"What about you? Mister thousand dollar suit, speaks Italian, carries around hundreds of dollars in cash, but needs a hooker to put him up for the night, what's your story?"

Tony snorted. He set his plate down and leaned into Steve's side again. "Eh. You know how it goes. Been running the family business since my parents died. Sometimes things get to be too much and you need to take off for a bit. But there are eyes everywhere."

Steve leaned back to stare at Tony. Holy shit, was he really -

Tony looked up at his shock and snorted. "Not that kind of family business, you walnut. I'm in technology. I'm also in the tabloids a lot."

"Oh. I don't read that kind of thing," Steve said, trying not to make it sound superior. He couldn't afford to read that kind of thing. He didn't even have internet on his phone. The only news he got was whatever he caught on the TV at the bar, and it was almost always on ESPN.

Tony laughed. "Yeah I could tell when you didn't recognize me."

"Sorry. Should I have?"

Tony shrugged. "Whatever. You lack context. I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually. But it's not like I'm Beyonce or some shit."

"Alright." Steve chuckled. The sun dropped low below the horizon, but the cocoon they'd made in the blankets was warm - almost too warm - so they felt no need to move. But as time ticked on, Steve felt the electricity between them crackle to life once more. Fingers slid over his thigh, and he bit his lip so he wouldn't gasp. He braved a glance at Tony out of the corner of his eye but he was still gazing serenely out over the rooftops, eyes hooded and body slack.

The fingers worked their way closer and closer to Steve's zipper, and he tried to regulate his breathing. This was another game, another of Tony's power plays, and Steve was rock hard already. Tony massaged the inside of his thigh, squeezing hard enough that it almost hurt. His fingers dug in, inches from where Steve's cock strained in his pants.

Steve swallowed hard and leaned back, shifting his hips forward the tiniest amount. But Tony noticed, and he smiled.

Fuck, that tiny quirk of his lips shot straight down Steve's spine like a rocket, and he had to ball his hands into fists to keep them from doing something drastic. Tony was so cool and relaxed, like he hardly cared, but his fingers were stroking up and down the inside of Steve's thigh now, barely brushing his cock on every upslide.

Steve was painfully, viscerally aware that Tony had come once already, and he had been denied. His cock ached, and he could feel his heartbeat thumping low and deep inside him. He was suddenly desperate to be fucked, desperate to have something filling him up and stretching him out.

But Tony, it seemed, had no interest in moving things along.

Steve let out a pained breath when Tony's palm stroked over his tented pants, then went back to petting his thigh, and Tony laughed. He turned, finally acknowledging Steve's presence, and pressed his lips to his ear. "Cry hold, enough," he dared.

Steve had two choices in that moment: give in or fight back. He fought back. He turned too, quickly, and caught Tony's mouth in a fierce kiss. Tony gave to it, moaning and slumping back against the bricks. For all his bluff and bluster, he really seemed to like giving in to Steve's kisses.

Steve curled over him, hooking one leg between Tony's and pressing forward, making as if he was giving Tony something to rub off against, while really pressing his own needy cock against Tony's thigh. He dipped his chin to hide his face and opened his mouth in a silent moan, but Tony caught him, now that he was no longer being distracted by kisses.

"Brat," Tony said fondly. "Get downstairs."

Steve all but fell down the ladder.

Tony came tumbling after, discarding the blankets in a messy heap at the bottom of the ladder and tripping into Steve's arms, trusting him to catch him. Steve did, and dragged both of them to the bed, mouths locked, tumbling down onto it in a mess of limbs. Tony rolled himself on top and threaded their legs together, driving up roughly between Steve's thighs.

"Mm, grind off on me baby. You're so desperate you'll do that won't you? You can't wait. You'll rut against anything like a fucking animal." Tony pressed harder, and Steve moaned, obeying, writhing and rutting and grinding against Tony, revelling in the rough friction. "You're such a filthy whore. You want it so bad, don't you?"

"So bad," Steve whined. He reached up and pulled on the sweatshirt he'd leant Tony, and Tony sat up, letting him tug it off. Steve stroked his palms over Tony's chest reverently. "God, you're gorgeous," he muttered.

He'd mostly been saying it to himself, hardly aware the words had spilled out, but Tony's eyes went wide with shock for a moment before he schooled them under control again. He pulled his knee away, and Steve whimpered.

"Strip," Tony said, standing up. He peeled his own clothes off quickly, clinically, his eyes glued on Steve.

Steve took his time. He stayed lying back on the bed so he had to squirm awkwardly to get undressed, knowing it would please Tony to watch him wiggle and writhe, eyes soft and belly bared. When he finally kicked his pants off and stretched out, naked, Tony didn't touch him right away. He raked his eyes over Steve's bare skin, seeing him fully exposed for the first time, and Steve lit up under his attention. His skin flushed and prickled, and he knew a blush of pink heat would be stretching down his chest and over his nipples.

His cock lay hard and heavy against his stomach, and he felt like it was getting impossibly harder with every heartbeat as Tony continued to do nothing more than stare openly at him.

"You gonna do somethin' about it?" Steve asked, flicking challenging eyes up to Tony from under his eyelashes.

Tony rumbled, eyes narrowing, and crawled forward over Steve's body. He paused at his stomach and bent down, nipping tiny, sharp bites up Steve's chest, each one making him suck in a breath and flinch. When Tony got to a nipple he wrapped his lips around it and sucked hard.

Steve's eyes rolled back in his head. Fuck, it was never like this. Eighty percent of his sexual experience was calculating his next grocery order in his head while some horny, half-drunk, trucker fucked his mouth. The occasions when he'd had sex for fun instead of money had mostly been awkward or boring.

But Tony was all cool ice and crackling heat at the same time. He looked at Steve like he wanted to devour him, not like he was a cheap hole to be used. But then, the filth he spilled out of his mouth, equal parts humiliating and thrilling. It was a twisted, heady contradiction.

Tony's thigh settled between Steve's legs, and he ground against it, no doubt leaving a wet streak, while Tony drew him into a hot, wet kiss. "I want to fuck you," Tony said harshly against Steve's mouth, then bit down hard on his bottom lip, making Steve gasp.

It was an out, a chance for Steve to say no without having to disobey a command, but he wanted it, wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything. "Please," he whined, his voice taking on a desperation he hadn't intended and that he'd never heard from himself before.

Tony fumbled for the condoms and lube from earlier. He tore open the condom packet and set it aside then took Steve's hand and spilled lube over his fingers. He didn't say anything, but he rocked back on his heels and watched Steve pointedly. Steve sucked in a sharp breath then dropped his hand between his legs.

Tony's eyes followed the path of Steve's hand. He settled one hand on his own cock, stroking lightly, not making any sort of progress, but keeping himself hard.

Steve kept his eyes on Tony's, watching them darken and soften as Steve rolled the pads of his fingers around the rim of his hole then pressed inside. Tony swallowed, throat bobbing, and his grip tightened. Steve wanted a hand on his cock too, but he sensed that Tony would bat it away if he tried, and he didn't want to disrupt the way Tony was staring at him - like the rest of the world didn't exist, like a bomb could go off and Tony wouldn't notice.

Steve barely knew Tony, but it didn't take long to figure out he was smart. He had a vast capacity for attention, but every atom of it was focused on Steve. It made it hard to breathe. Steve pushed himself, working his fingers in deeper and stretching them wide. As badly as he wanted Tony in him, he also wanted to be nice and loose and ready so Tony could just slide in. He worked himself open until his arm was shaking with the urge to reach for his cock, but when he pulled away and looked hopefully at Tony, Tony shook his head slowly, dark, heated eyes locked on Steve's lube-covered fingers.

"Fuck." Steve's cock throbbed and a line of precome dripped down to his stomach. "Please, Tony," he tried. He shoved three fingers in his hole and fucked himself on them relentlessly. "Please, please."

Tony lasted a few minutes longer, but when Steve arched back on the bed and whined, high-pitched and drawn out, Tony finally batted his arm away and rolled a condom down his cock. He lined up and pushed in, and Steve breathed out with bone-deep relief to finally be filled up the way he needed. Tony was thick and hard and pressed all the way in until he was bottomed out without pause.

They swore in unison when Tony rocked back then pushed in again. His arms were shaking where they braced on either side of Steve's hips. Steve could tell he was holding back, waiting, uncertain.

"Tony." He waited until Tony's eyes met his then he dropped his lashes low, let his hands fall to the mattress and fist in the sheets. "Take me, please."

Tony growled, grabbed Steve's thigh in one hand and hauled him up into his lap. He bent over to press a bruising kiss to Steve's lips then slammed his cock deep inside him, rough and hard, not giving Steve time to catch his breath before he did it again. Tony's eyes flashed, and he bit down over Steve's nipple then set a punishing pace with his hips.

Bursts of pleasure rocketed through Steve's core, sparking up his spine. Tony thrust into him so relentlessly that the waves overlapped until he felt constantly on the edge.

"Cry hold, enough,'" Tony whispered in his ear with a growl, folding Steve's knees up and using the leverage to hit the angle that nailed his prostate with every thrust.

Steve whined and bit his lip. Tony's breath was hot and wet against his neck. He needed a hand on his cock so badly, but there was no room between them.

"You gonna say it, baby? You gonna tell me to stop? Come on, Brooklyn, admit it. It's too much for you, isn't it?"

"Oh my god," Steve whined, bracing his hands against the wall over his head. It was too much, but in the best possible way. "Fuck me, Tony. I'm so close."

But apparently that, and the way Steve clenched his muscles and arched up into Tony, was enough to push Tony over the edge. "Nuh -" He slumped forward with a full-body shiver and collapsed, pulsing deep inside Steve.

Steve bit his lip and tried not to whimper. He was so close, painfully close, but Tony was paying for this, and he didn't owe Steve an orgasm. Maybe he even got off on denying him one, after all. Steve tried to sit up, to go through his normal routine - chuck the condom, helpfully find his client's clothes, then show them the way to the door. But Tony wasn't leaving tonight, which Steve had never experienced before. Also, he had his hand pressed firmly to Steve's chest.

"God, you were incredible," Tony murmured. "So beautiful, gave so good to me baby. I'm going to make you feel so good."

"Wha -?" Steve managed to get out, but then Tony was wriggling down his body, tearing open a new condom. He rolled it over Steve's cock and pressed his fingers deep in Steve's ass, pushing in and spreading wide, fucking him roughly without hesitation. Tony's fingers found Steve's prostate and pressed until he arched up off the bed with a cry. Then he sucked Steve down to the hilt. "What the fuck?" Steve cried it, utterly spun out.

Why in god's name was his client sucking him off? It was unbelievable. It was hot and wet and tight, and he was so close already and fuck - fuck - fuck.

"Tony, shit -" he warned, batting uselessly at Tony's hair, searching for reason, logic, a handhold of some kind. Because he was losing grip, losing - something - god. He came in Tony's mouth, Tony's tight throat swallowing around him, three fingers buried deep in his ass. It rippled through him from head to foot, and his cries twisted into near sobs. Tony sucked him through it, then, when Steve fell limp, gasping in sharp breaths, he pulled off, tossed the condom aside and crawled his way up Steve's body.

Steve hooked an arm around Tony's waist on impulse, and Tony collapsed into the hold, sprawled over Steve's chest.

"Holy shit," Steve whispered, the words falling out before he had time to filter them.

He felt Tony grin against his neck. "No fucking kidding."

Steve had the strange impulse to thank him, and he wasn't entirely sure why.

They lay like that for a long time, before Steve said, "Shower?" and Tony nodded. They tumbled out of the bed, and Steve started the water. When Tony joined him in the bathroom, he was chewing his way through a piece of leftover garlic bread. Steve laughed and snagged a bite for himself. Tony stole a kiss in retaliation, and they ended up giggling and splashing and sharing garlicy kisses through the entire shower. The water was cold by the time they actually managed to focus on cleaning long enough to soap up and rinse off.

When they were out and clean and wrapped in towels, Tony backed Steve against the bathroom wall and bit a line of hickeys down his neck, sucking the water off his skin then gripping down with his teeth until his neck burned and throbbed. Steve fell limp against the wall, his wet hair dripping in his eyes. He let Tony devour him as long as he wanted.

Tony eventually worked his way back up to Steve's mouth and kissed him silly, pulling away from the wall to drag him back into the studio apartment. Steve traced his hands over Tony's bare chest, still feeling stupid and happy from his orgasm.

Tony picked up another piece of garlic bread and bit into it, eyes fixed intently on Steve. "You sure it's cool if I stay? I can probably find a hotel without being followed. It's late enough now."

Part of Steve wanted to know why he'd be followed, but most of him didn't care; he just didn't want Tony to leave. "Stay."

"You sure?" Tony looked more insecure than Steve had seen him all night, fiddling with the crust of the garlic bread, eyes downcast.  

"Wouldn't say it if it weren't true," Steve said, letting Brooklyn slip back in. When Tony looked up, Steve winked, and his beautiful smile shifted slowly back into place.

"Aright."

Steve grabbed the rest of the garlic bread, the blanket from the corner, and Tony and dumped them all in his bed. Tony tumbled back laughing as Steve piled the blankets on top of him.

Together, they made a nest, and Tony set up his phone with Netflix playing. It should have been weird, to intertwine with a man who was basically a stranger, in the same bed. Tony had paid him for sex and a place to crash, that didn't mean they needed to snuggle. But they both gravitated towards each other, without acknowledging it, and while the movie played, they curled up in a mess of limbs and bare skin. Steve was sure he wouldn't be able to get hard again for a few weeks after an orgasm that mind-blowing, but having Tony's heat searing up his side made his cock give a few interested twitches.

Eventually, it was sweaty and a little overheated under the heavy blanket, but it was better than the rapidly dropping temperature in the rest of the apartment, night bringing a chill with it. So, they stayed wrapped in the bed, watching movie after movie and talking softly over the boring bits, until Tony's breathing softened and slowed and his eyes drifted shut.

Steve turned the movie off and set Tony's phone aside then settled back in bed. Tony's eyes fluttered open again. "This was the most fun I've had in a long time," he said dopily, barely awake.

"Me too."

Tony made a face like he thought it was a line, so Steve dragged him in and kissed his forehead then settled him on his chest. Tony sighed with pleasure, and Steve let his eyes fall shut, his breathing slowly evening out to match Tony's.

It hadn't been a line.

**

Steve rolled over and blinked into the morning light with a groan. He'd been too out of it last night to think to close the curtains. He propped himself up on his elbow and squinted at Tony's side of the bed. Empty. "Tony?" No answer.

Steve swung his legs over, scrunching his toes in the soft pile of the rug. He leaned forward and peered down the hall but the bathroom door was open and the light was off. Tony was gone.

Stretching his fingers up towards the ceiling revealed every inch of him that ached with a pleasant soreness. He languished in the stretch, rolling his stiff shoulders out. It felt amazing. He padded over to the kitchen table, still blinking out the harsh morning sun, and his eyes fell on a white envelope stuck to the fridge with the Star Wars magnet Bucky had given him. It had Macbeth scrawled across it in blue pen.

Steve opened the envelope and choked on nothing. He burst out the door and flew down the fire escape. "Tony!" He turned the corner. A dark silhouette leaned against the side of the next building over. He was wearing the shirt and pants Steve had given him last night, with his own dress shoes and the oversized hoodie from the roof over top. "Tony!" He turned; his eyes landed on Steve.

Steve pulled up beside him, panting heavily.

"You're not wearing shoes," Tony said, staring at his bare toes. Steve wiggled them.

Steve brandished the envelope. "I can't take this, Tony, it's too much." There was at least five thousand in cash in the envelope, in the same crisp, clean hundreds Tony had already given him.

He laughed, not mean or mocking, truly delighted. He leaned in and pulled Steve close, rubbing at his upper arm. The wind whipped around the lot, and Steve shivered. Okay, so he did wish he'd put on shoes.

"Trust me, it's really nothing. Take it. I want to contribute to the Return to Brooklyn fund."

Steve gaped at him. "Why?"

Tony hummed and hooked his fingers in the collar of Steve's t-shirt. He tugged him in for a soft, slow, deep kiss that curled Steve's toes in the gravel. "Let's say I have an interest in the matter." He kissed along Steve's jawline then nipped his earlobe, tugging down on it. He whispered into Steve's ear, the puff of air sending a shudder down Steve's spine that had nothing to do with the weather. "I live in Manhattan."

Tony pulled away with a wide grin, but Steve could only stare. Tony lived in Manhattan. He wanted to help Steve get back to Brooklyn. That meant… Tony wanted to see him again? Steve looked down at the envelope. "Is this -"

"It's not a downpayment," Tony said tartly, reading his mind. "It's a gift. But hey, maybe I'll see you around sometime. Thanks for the sleepover, Steve. I had a wonderful time." He drew Steve in for another kiss then pulled away.

A sleek, black town car appeared silently behind them, and Tony slipped into the back seat.

Steve smirked and waved the envelope at him. "Hey, Tony? Pretty sure you're Macbeth."

Tony grinned back. "Let's call it a draw."

Steve watched him go, bare feet glued to the pavement. Had that really just happened?

"Wait!" He took two pointless steps towards the car that was already pulling away. "You don't have my phone number!"

But Tony was gone. Shit.

Steve looked back at the envelope. He ruffled the bills and his heart skipped and skittered with each one. He'd never seen this much money in one place before. It'd be enough. Enough to get started anyway.

But even if he did get back to New York, how would he ever find Tony again? He knew his first name and that he lived in Manhattan. Along with two million other people. Helpful.

Steve walked back to his apartment, clutching the envelope too hard, worried the wind would grab it and whip it away, like none of this had ever happened. Inside, it was clear it had. Tony's clothes lay scattered across the apartment like they had exploded off of Tony's body instead of being removed. Steve started collecting the pieces, but halfway through he had to open the freezer, take out the envelope and check it again. Yup. Still there.

He rubbed his thumb over the hastily scrawled Macbeth on the front and wondered what Tony had been thinking when he wrote it. His thumb caught some small change in the texture and he tilted the envelope, realizing it wasn't one of his, but one Tony must have had with him. It wasn't a bank envelope though, in the top left corner was an embossed logo.

Stark Industries.

Stark -

Tony… Stark.

Steve had spent the night with Tony Stark.

"Holy shit," he said to the envelope, his hands shaking. He'd slept with Tony Stark, and he hadn't even known it. And now he had five thousand bucks and what he hoped amounted to an invitation to see him again, in the city.

Steve peered out the small window over the dusty lot for a moment, letting it all sink in. He dropped his eyes to the sink. The faucet wasn't leaking anymore. He turned on his heel, pulled his duffle out from under the bed and started to pack.

He was going home.

Chapter Text

The bus bounced and jerked over the uneven road, and Steve clung to the armrest, head smacking painfully against the window he'd been trying to use as a pillow. He wouldn't be getting any sleep at all on this trip.

That was particularly problematic, because Steve wouldn't be getting into New York until two in the afternoon and he'd barely slept the night before out of sheer anxiety. His plan to go back to Brooklyn had always been his goal, his ultimate fantasy, but he honestly never expected it to come true. And now he was uprooting everything because of one night with a slightly insane billionaire.  

Steve's fingers twitched towards the envelope of cash - now crumpled and folded - stuffed in the front of his pants, but he resisted the urge to check on it yet again. He didn't want to draw attention to a huge wad of money sticking out of his waistband. His eyes flicked across the aisle to a surly looking young woman slouched low in her seat.

The bus bounced again.

After three and a half weeks of trying to set up a place to go in New York, Steve could no longer deny that he was itching to see Tony again. He'd tried every excuse he could think of - he owed Tony another night for the money he'd given him, Tony had left something at his apartment, he wanted his hoodie back - none of it was true. The truth was that Tony had slipped under Steve's skin, somehow, and Steve didn't know how to get him out again.

The number of times he'd jacked off to thoughts of Tony's hand on the back of his neck was truly embarrassing.

Tony probably didn't even remember him. It'd been one wild night, out of what the tabloids claimed to be a lot of wild nights for him, and the more Steve ( not obsessively) researched the man, the more he realized that dropping 5k on a hard-up hooker was akin to dropping a dollar in the hat of a quality busker for Tony. The night was changing Steve's entire life, and for Tony? It was almost certainly nothing at all.

Still, Steve wanted to go home, Tony or no, and this money was his chance.

And yet, try as he might, Steve couldn't stop the fantasies from rolling through his mind in the rumbling dark of the bus ride. That Tony would remember him, want him, pay obscene amounts of money to have him again. Steve imagined riding into town to find Tony waiting for him at the bus stop, one of those sleek black cars idling nearby. He'd grab Steve's bag and throw it in the trunk then grab Steve's hair and haul him in for a filthy kiss. Steve could suck him off in the back of the car while they drove to Tony's fancy home. He'd keep him there, everything paid for, in the lap of luxury - and Tony's lap, too.

Steve blinked his eyes opened and watched the endless fields roll by. It was a nice fantasy.

But when the bus finally did pull up at the stop, no one was there to meet Steve. No one even knew he was coming - he had no one to tell. And even if Tony had known he was coming, did want to see him again, it'd be a covert text and a cab sent to get him, no filthy kisses at the bus stop in full view of everyone.

Steve shuffled off the bus with a few others, blowing warm air onto his hands as he waited for the driver to tug his duffle out from underneath. He threw the strap over his arm and set off for the subway, taking a moment to get his bearings. He hadn't been here in a lifetime. He'd gotten off the bus at an early stop, putting him on the edge of the city, instead of wasting his time beating his way to Grand Central with everyone else. But even after all this time, he knew it like the back of his hand, and it wasn't long before he was trundling off towards Brooklyn.

Steve's stomach twisted with nerves as he hiked three blocks to the address he'd written carefully on a piece of paper tucked in his wallet.

It was a shithole, but Steve hadn't expected anything else. He hauled himself up a fire escape to a faded, red door and hammered on it. All was quiet and then he heard muffled yelling. He knocked again. A moment later the door swung open and a high-as-fuck looking dude in a baseball cap opened the door. "What?"

"I'm Steve," Steve said. "Renting the room."

"Sorry bro, we're all rented up."

"Yes, I know. Because I took the last room. Steve," he repeated.

The guy blinked at him cluelessly.

"I called you, then emailed. We talked about the room. You said it was all mine if I came on the first with money. I'm here. With my money."

"Oh shit, sorry man." The guy shook his head slowly. "We rented it out already."

"What?"

"Yeah, some guy showed up yesterday with first and last so we gave it to him."

"What?" Steve clenched his fist against his side. "You told me I couldn't come any earlier! We had a deal."

The guy shrugged. "No deal til money passes hands. Sorry, bud. Plenty of rooms for rent around here." He shut the door, and Steve let out a string of expletives his mother would not have been proud of.

He'd waited, turning tricks and eating away at Tony's money, because the only place he could find that was in the city and affordable was this one. And they'd fucking pulled the rug out from under him. Everyone else needed proof of income and references from past landlords and all Steve had was an envelope of dwindling cash and a disconnected phone number for the guy he'd lived above back when Tony had found him.

This late at night, his only option was a hotel - which would kill an entire month's rent in a couple of nights, a shelter - where he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, for fear of having his stuff stolen - or picking up a John and hoping he could spend the night there - which was incredibly risky in an area he didn't know anymore.

Or he could take the subway right back to the bus station, buy a return ticket, and get the hell out of here.

He didn't want to start turning tricks without getting a sense of the territory. That was a surefire way to step on someone's toes, get his ass beaten. And a broken nose and black eye were terrible for business.

Thinking about a black eye brought him back to Tony and the shiner he'd been sporting that night. He'd never told Steve what it was from. God, Steve just really wanted to see him again. He hiked his bag up on his shoulder and rattled his way back down the stairs to the alley. The subway stop wasn't far away, and when he trotted down the stairs to the platform, he found himself turning towards the F line, towards Manhattan. Towards the bus station, he told himself firmly.

But when the train rumbled into Grand Central, he found himself walking up the stairs and out to the street instead of finding a train schedule out of town. Because that was the only reason to be in Manhattan, right?

Stark Tower loomed up behind the stone front of the terminal, all curving glass and modern lines.

It would be rude not to at least leave a message for Tony, right? If he didn't, Tony would think he'd taken the money and blown it or something. He was torn between wanting to prove to Tony that his faith in him was justified and not wanting to have to explain that New York just wasn't going to work out. But what were the odds Tony even remembered him anyway? He'd leave a note and then he'd leave town again, find somewhere cheap and easy and horny, where Tony's money would last a long time and it'd be simple to get more. And that would be that.

Steve crossed up to the front of the building and tried not to be intimidated by the sheer immensity of the building. He'd looked it up at the library after he met Tony, and apparently the top two floors were Tony's penthouse apartment. Steve craned his neck back. Must be a killer view. He wondered if Tony was up there right now. He probably wasn't. He was a busy international business man. He was probably in China or something.

Steve took a breath and pushed the doors open.

The reception area was vast, with huge three-story high ceilings and enormous windows. The marble tile was perfectly clean and shiny, and Steve instantly felt like a fly in someone's forty-dollar soup. He straightened his shirt and let out a tense breath as he approached the reception desk. It was late, so even though there were four seats at the large, half-moon desk, there was only one person behind it, a shockingly capable looking woman who couldn't have been more than twenty-five.

"Can I help you?" she asked, polite but cautious.

Steve knew he probably looked like a bum here to beg for loose change. "Um, yeah. Sorry. I know Tony Stark? I was hoping I could speak to him…"

Her face shifted slightly from concern to pity, and Steve felt his cheeks flush. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No… I never got his number. We, uh, met once, and he said I should hit him up if I was ever in the city. And, well, I'm in the city, but, uh… Yeah, he didn't give me his number."

"Riiight…" She drew out the vowel. She looked genuinely sympathetic now. "I'm afraid, I can't just -"

"Oh, of course, I know. It was stupid of me to think I could -" Steve's eyes alit on a pad of paper. "Can I write him a note? I mean, if I write a note with my number, would you give it to him? Then he can call me if he wants to but I won't be bothering him."

She considered him for a moment. "Sure. Write down your number and I'll pass it on."

Steve was one hundred percent sure that "pass it on" meant "pass it on to security so they know who to look out for," but he took the pad of paper and scribbled on it anyway

Birnam Wood be come to Dunsinane. -Steve 555-3689

He handed it over, open so she could see it wasn't anything threatening and that he didn't mind her reading it. He gave her a tight smile. "Thanks."

"No problem."

He walked out, dragging his feet to enjoy the heated lobby a little longer. But the bitter wind whipped all the pilfered warmth away the moment Steve stepped outside, and he drew his coat more closely around himself.

Now what?

His plan had been to lay low for a few weeks, get the lay of the land. He had $3500 left and $2k of that was for first and last rent, and a security deposit. He could probably keep his food expenses to $100 a month if he was careful, which left him a pretty good buffer, but money didn't stretch far in New York, and he'd need clothes and shoes eventually.

He'd hoped to keep a couple hundred in his freezer in case business was slow in the winter but the way things were looking, he'd have to shell out for a hotel room until he found a new place to stay, and that was going to burn through his money like rocket fuel. So he had a choice: he could start hooking right away and risk his safety to pay for a hotel room while he looked for an apartment, he could spend the money and bank on Brooklyn being more steady and more spendy than back home, or he could live on the street while he househunted and wait to pick up Johns until he knew where he was going to stay.

Or he could buy a bus ticket and go to… anywhere.

Steve dropped his face in his hands and scrubbed them over his face. He was tired from the long bus ride, he was cold, and he was hungry. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Well he could at least take care of two of those.

He was in too nice a part of the city to find somewhere cheap to eat, but after walking for a few blocks, he found an open diner on a corner and slid into a booth. The wall next to him was exposed brick, photos of 50's movie stars pinned up every few feet. The prices on the menu made Steve feel too sick to want to eat anyway, but it was warm and quiet here, and the leather-covered booth seat was comfortable, so he ordered a side of fries and a coffee and tried to look like he was waiting for someone. The pity on the waitresses face told him he hadn't been successful.

Steve didn't know why he wasn't on a bus back right now. Maybe he'd rather be homeless for a few nights than suffer through another eight hours of stuffy, bumpy, highway. Maybe he was too stubborn to give up.

Thankfully, the diner was quiet enough that the lone waitress didn't seem to mind that Steve had installed himself and didn't seem inclined to move. He stretched the fries as long as he could and the coffee even longer, but she kept topping up his water glass and even patted him on the shoulder once as she walked by, so Steve didn't feel the need to move.

The staticy speakers started blaring Don't Stop Believing, and Steve grimaced. He'd spent two hundred dollars and given up his whole life to come here and it was no different. He was just as screwed, just as alone.

His phone rang.

It couldn't possibly be Tony, could it? God, maybe the receptionist had given his number to the police… "Hello?" he asked tentatively.

"Hey, Macbeth."

"Tony?"

"Uh, yeah. Why so shocked? You gave me your number, remember?" He sounded caught between amused and concerned.

"Well, yeah, but I didn't think your receptionist was actually going to pass it on. I sounded like a lunatic stalker."

Tony laughed, and Steve willed down the flush that sprung up at the sound. "Honestly? I think it was so weird that she couldn't bear the curiosity. She tried to get me to explain, but I'm fickle."

Steve smiled down at his nearly empty mug.

"So you're in town, huh?" Tony's voice had dropped several octaves, the low purr rocketing Steve back to his knees buried in a shag rug, Tony's cock buried down his throat.

He coughed. "Uh yeah. In town. Took me longer to get here than I expected, but I finally made it."

"I'm glad. Where you staying?"

"I arranged a place in Brooklyn," Steve said lightly. It wasn't exactly a lie.

"You needed there tonight?"

Steve knocked back the rest of his coffee to wash down the sudden lump blocking his throat. "No…" He should be playing this. Tony could give him a place to warm up and money, but all Steve's finesse flew out the window. He didn't want Tony to see him like this, homeless and frustrated. He wanted to go anywhere but Tony's place while Tony's place was the only place he wanted to be.

"Come stay with me tonight."

Steve hummed. "I shouldn't."

"Why not? You showed me a good night, let me get you back."

"You did get me back," Steve pointed out. "Ten times what we'd agreed on, actually."

Tony laughed softly. "You were worth it. And then some. Come on, I could use the company. You eaten?"

Steve looked at the empty plate of seasoned fries he'd managed to nurse for two hours. His stomach rumbled. "No."

"Well, I'm about to order an obscene amount of food. Come over or it goes to waste."

"Tony…"

Tony sighed. "I don't want to push you, Steve. If you can't, you can't. But if you were planning on working tonight, just saying, I'll make it worth your while if you come here instead."

And there it was. Tony wanted to pay him for sex again. It wasn't like Steve could really argue that he'd been expecting anything else when he'd left the note, but it still felt like some flicker of hope had been extinguished, something he couldn't really put his finger on. He had no place to stay, no extra money to waste on a hotel, and nothing to do tonight. If he went to Tony's place, he could almost certainly find a way to spend the night, he'd be fed, have an incredible orgasm if last time was anything to go on, and he'd leave with his pockets padded.

He'd also fall a little more in love with the guy he'd been trying to pretend he didn't care about for the last three weeks.

"Okay. Give me twenty minutes."

"Amazing. Go to the south entrance and the door will open for you automatically."

"See you soon."

"I can't wait." Tony hung up.

Steve flagged the waitress down, gave her the biggest tip he could bear to part with, and stepped back out into the chilly night.

The tower looked even more imposing this time, looming out of the shadows cast by the street lights. Steve skipped the big, sliding glass doors and made his way around to the side of the building. The simple, metal door there made him feel more like a delivery than a guest, but he raised his hand to knock, wondering what his cover story should be, or if he'd even need to explain himself. But before he could touch his fist to the door, it swung open on its own, revealing nothing but the inside of an elevator.

Vibrating with apprehension, Steve stepped into the elevator. There were no buttons to push, but it started moving as soon as the doors closed, so he figured it only went up to Tony's apartment. Tony's penthouse apartment that had been featured in Architectural Digest and Vanity Fair. That apartment.

Steve shoved his duffle bag in the corner of the elevator. Maybe Tony wouldn't see it and he could leave it there until he left. It'd be safe in Tony's building, but he wouldn't have to explain why he had it. He fiddled with the change from his diner meal in his pocket, rocking up and down on the balls of his feet as the elevator rocketed upwards. A second later, he realized the torn envelope of money was still shoved down the front of his pants. Steve whipped it out and shoved it in his bag just before the elevator hummed to a stop.

The doors opened, and he tried to stop his jaw from hitting the floor, but he wasn't sure if he managed it. Tony was leaning against the kitchen counter, smiling in Steve's direction, but Steve couldn't tear his eyes away from the room long enough to get a good look at him.

One entire wall was glass, curving along the edge of a massive living room, complete with a full wet bar. Somehow, everything managed to ooze executive VIP without being ostentatious. Stairs curved up out of Steve's view, and he caught sight of doors that implied that this was barely the beginning of the space. The city lights twinkled in the dark, like a sea of bioluminescent creatures spread out at their feet.

"Steve?"

Steve shook himself out of his stunned blinking to finally look at Tony. He looked - he looked amazing, really. Even in jeans and a t-shirt, he was every inch the amazing suit that had waltzed into Daisy's bar, and into Steve's life. He was light years out of Steve's league, and damn it was good to look at him again. Since when had Steve thought about leagues and clients?

Since when had Steve wanted to see a client again so badly he'd crossed the country for him?

Steve swallowed, trying to summon up some of the charm he'd managed when they'd first met. "Hey, Tony."

But Tony's face fell a little, not the smirk and wink Steve was expecting. "You okay?" Tony asked. "You look a little rough."

Steve looked down at his outfit and blanched. He hadn't even thought about it, but he looked awful. Not the smooth suave hooker, not the man who had picked Tony up without a second thought. "Oh god, sorry. I'm such a mess. I was on the bus all day, and I didn't even think to change. Wow. That's -" He couldn't even think of the word. Unprofessional? Definitely. Horrible? Yeah. Embarrassing… no question.

But Tony smiled encouragingly and beckoned Steve in. "You got in today? That eager to see me, hot stuff?" He winked, and Steve found his smile again.

"Definitely."

"Well, no worries. The food isn't here yet so why don't you take a shower while I finish up a few work things, and then we can lounge around and -" his eyes flicked up and down Steve's body "- be indulgent."

"Is that okay?" There was a bit too much of a quality of crashing at someone's place - using Tony's shower and storing his bag in the elevator, and Steve wondered yet again if he should have just said no. But Tony steered him up the stairs towards the master bathroom, flicking on jets and tossing around bottles, and as soon as Steve had been stripped and shoved under the spray, everything melted away.

Steve had never even seen a shower so opulent. Multiple jets sprayed out of the tile wall and the ceiling, a dial increasing their strength until they could strip paint - or strip an eight hour bus ride off Steve's skin. He indulged in Tony's shampoo and body wash, holding the bottle up to his nose to smell the sweet hint of spice he'd licked off his skin last time they'd met.

When he couldn't justify staying in any longer, Steve wrapped a towel around his hips and stepped out of the bathroom. He was certainly not going to put his same clothes back on, but he couldn't go to the elevator to get fresh ones out of his bag without revealing that he'd stashed it there. Not that it mattered. He assumed Tony didn't have many plans for him that involved clothes, anyway.

He padded through Tony's bedroom, resisting the urge to snoop a little, and leaned over the stair rail to find Tony in the kitchen below.

Tony looked up from the styrofoam containers laid out on the kitchen counter to rake heated eyes over Steve's bare, dripping skin. "Well, there's a sight for sore eyes."

"Wasn't sure it was worth getting dressed," Steve said with a smirk, trying to find his cool. He did this for a living. He could be charming.

"I wholeheartedly agree with that plan." Tony sauntered over to the base of the stairs and ran the palm of his hand flat over Steve's foot. "But I don't want you dropping hot noodles on your junk. Why don't you grab a robe from my bedroom, behind the door? Then I get the chance to see you in my clothes instead of the other way around." He winked.

Steve found the bedroom door again, letting himself look this time- and holy shit was that a huge bed - and easily found the robes on the back. He selected the biggest looking one and slipped into it. It was the softest thing he'd ever worn, thick and plush. By the time he reached the kitchen again, Tony had all the containers open and plates set with silverware on the table. The food smelled incredible, and Steve's stomach rumbled loudly.

Tony gestured him down to the table, and Steve perched himself on one of the dining room chairs. He picked up his fork and clutched it like a lifeline, tense eyes glued to Tony as he settled across the table. He was starving, but anxiety was coming between him and the food. Tony started in, and Steve didn't want to seem ungrateful so he poked his fork into a pile of noodles and vegetables that smelled like garlic and ginger.

After a few minutes of tense silence, where Steve had barely managed to taste his food, Tony sighed heavily. Steve looked up sharply to see Tony watching him sadly.

"You're tired?" Tony offered. "Sick? Did I read this totally wrong? You didn't want to come over tonight. I pushed you. You want to leave."

It was the way they were statements instead of questions that had Steve shaking his head vigorously. "No, no. Of course not, Tony. I wanted to come over tonight. I'm -" Steve swallowed heavily. Tony pulled all this horrible honestly out of him. "I'm a bit overwhelmed," he finally managed. "I just moved here six hours ago, and the bus ride was awful, and - my living situation… isn't what I expected, and I honestly never thought you'd actually call me."

Tony watched him for a moment then stood, picking up his still mostly full plate. Steve watched in horror as Tony walked around the table. Was Tony kicking him out just for that?

But he picked up Steve's plate as well and bumped his shoulder against Steve's. "Come on."

Steve followed him across the apartment to the inset living room and its soft carpet and wall of windows. Tony set the food right down on the white rug in front of the glass and sat next to it with his back braced against the back of the couch. Steve dropped himself down next to him. Their feet nearly touched the glass which ran right down to the floor. With the twinkling city lights, it felt like you could fall off the room into outer space.

"I don't think I've had as much fun as I did up on your roof in a really long time," Tony said, picking up a deep fried spring roll and holding it out towards Steve. Steve leaned over and wrapped his lips around the spring roll, tugging it out of Tony's hold. The couch was soft but secure against his back and the apartment was less daunting like this. It shrunk the space down to just a bubble around the two of them.

"Same," Steve admitted. The spring roll was crisp and flavourful and he found himself reaching for another one, and then his plate of noodles. "Your view is nicer, though."

They fell into silence that was comfortable this time, and Steve tucked into his noodles, realizing how hungry he really was when the first few bites settled in. He looked up after a few minutes and found Tony wasn't eating but was watching him carefully instead. "You sure you're okay, Steve?" Tony asked softly.

Steve set his fork down. "Yeah… I mean it's not exactly easy, moving here, but it's what I want, so I'll make it work." Steve traced the crease in Tony's brow with his eyes. "You don't have to worry about me, Tony." He gave him an encouraging smile. Tony still didn't look convinced, so Steve nudged him with an elbow. "What about you? Last time I saw you, you had a black eye and were wearing a hooker's clothes. You get back on your feet?" He grinned, and Tony laughed.

"I'm doing alright," Tony said, eye twinkling. "Back on my feet. Eye is a normal colour again. Still caught wearing a hooker's clothes once in a while, but only because that sweatshirt is really comfortable."

Steve flushed from head to toe at the thought of Tony wearing his clothes even now, weeks later. "Thought you might have thrown those out," he muttered.

Tony shot him a look. "You're not getting it back. I paid for it, fair and square. You can have the pants, actually, because they're so long they make me look a bit like a hobbit. But the hoodie's mine."

Steve smiled down at his food, poking at a carrot with his fork. "I wouldn't dare try and take it back. You know… you never told me why you had a black eye that night. Or really… anything about what you were doing there."

Tony chuckled. "I didn't?"

"Nope. Mr. Mystery. I checked the papers for a while after, see if you popped up -" Steve didn't mention that he was also desperately searching for pictures "- but you didn't."

Tony seemed pleased to hear it, and Steve wondered if he'd given too much away. "Well, whenever it seems like I might show up on the front page, I find a shady place to sleep, so they never catch me," he teased. "Though you were probably reading the wrong kinds of papers. So, yeah. I was testing a new product for SI and maybe shot myself in the face a little bit."

"What?!"

"Yeah… I'm trying to use repulsor technology to develop, well a jet pack, basically, and during testing it went off and part of the boot slammed into my face."

"Tony!"

"Wow, that's exactly the same tone Pepper used when I told her. Uncanny." Tony's tongue peeked out from between his teeth. "I was in your neck of the woods the next day doing some material sourcing and meeting an old friend, but someone caught a picture of me with the shiner and posted a story online about how my boyfriend beat me up."

Steve's whole body tensed. Did Tony really have a boyfriend? That would explain why he was paying for Steve instead of picking up someone real.

"Yeah…" Tony twisted away and fiddled with his fork. "My ex from a few years ago had some bad habits, some of which made it to the press, so as soon as they saw me sporting that, it was all - 'Tony's gone back to Ty and he's getting beat up.' I didn't want to draw attention to the friend I was visiting - that would be a whole different story - so I needed to lay low for a while. I left my bag at the hotel and slipped out, found your bar." Tony turned bright eyes on Steve. "I'd intended to find a hotel cheap enough that I could bribe the front desk to stay quiet about me being there… but then I met you instead."

Steve found himself speechless in the face of Tony's 100-megawatt attention. "Oh…" he breathed.

Tony ran his hand up Steve's calf to tease at the hem of the robe.

"This boyfriend?" Steve asked breathlessly. "He -?"

"Haven't seen him in years. Well, that's not true. We run in the same circles so I do see him sometimes, at parties and stuff, but he's harmless. But I haven't seen him on purpose in years. Why?" Tony shifted closer. "Jealous?"

Steve swallowed hard and leaned back, offering himself to Tony. "Yes," he said, and Tony's eyes snapped to his, then he smiled.

Tony tugged on the end of the robe tie, and it fell open, revealing a strip of Steve's stomach down to his bare cock, hardening quickly under Tony's hungry gaze. His fingers wandered up the inside of Steve's thigh, and Steve set his plate aside, bracing his hands on the carpet behind him and spreading his legs to give Tony unfettered access.

"Is this okay?" Tony asked, curling in towards him, his plate abandoned as well.

Steve nodded, hands finding Tony's hips and guiding him up until he straddled Steve's lap. Tony tipped him backwards onto the carpet, grinding down and drawing a line of kisses along his jaw.

"Hey, Steve?" Tony breathed into his neck.

Steve struggled to find the oxygen to reply. "Yes?"

"Do you want this to be… like last time?" Tony said significantly.

And Steve knew he should remind Tony that he was paying so it was up to him what they did, but all Steve could do was moan "yes" at the thought of Tony taking him, claiming him, owning him, like they'd done three weeks ago.

Tony groaned in reply, rutting against Steve's thigh. He kissed Steve hard, hands wandering down to peel the robe open until Steve was all but naked. The seam of Tony's pants rubbed against his rapidly hardening cock. "God, you're so beautiful. And so needy," Tony hissed in his ear.

Tony abandoned Steve's jaw and drifted lower, drawing a path with his hot mouth and wet tongue. He stopped at Steve's nipple and sucked.

"Oh, shit." Steve arched up into the slick friction. "Tony - oh."

"Like that, do you?" Tony licked a swathe over Steve's nipple then sucked at it again. "You're so sensitive. You going to be filthy for me tonight, Macduff."

"Anything you want," Steve breathed. It was so easy to forget around Tony, forget what had brought him here. He felt high already, head spinning pleasantly and skin buzzing with need. And Tony kept torturing his nipples, sucking and licking and biting.

Tony's hands skated up Steve's sides then one wrapped around his wrist and eased his hand under the edge of the couch, followed by the other one. "Hold on," he whispered, hot breath tickling Steve's ear.

"Oh my god."

Tony worked his way down Steve's chest, inspecting every inch of him. One hand curled possessively over Steve's hipbone, the other teasing his nipple idly while his mouth explored elsewhere. Steve didn't know what to do. If he'd considered the chance that last time with Tony had been a fluke and this time would be different, that thought was obliterated by Tony's hands reverently stroking over his skin. He felt the urge to remind Tony that he was just a hooker, not someone he should care about or need to charm. But it felt too good to say anything that might make him stop, to say anything at all.

Tony settled on his stomach on the carpet between Steve's thighs. He hooked Steve's leg over his shoulder and set to work kissing and biting his way up Steve's leg. He sucked a bruise in the meat of Steve's upper thigh and Steve's breath evaporated. His cock throbbed against his stomach, aching with how completely Tony was ignoring it. He gripped the underside of the couch until it creaked, every muscle tensed with the effort of not thrusting up to find friction against Tony's skin.

Tony hummed and grabbed a handful of the robe that pooled under Steve's back. He rocked back up to his knees and held a hand out to Steve. "Let's take this somewhere more comfortable. I'm getting a bit old for fucking on the floor."

Steve shivered and took Tony's hand, letting himself be pulled up to his feet. Tony shoved the robe off his shoulders and nuzzled into his neck.

"How are you so goddamn pretty?"

Steve clutched a handful of Tony's shirt and whined. "Tony, please."

"Need something I'm not giving you, gorgeous?"

Steve shifted forward until his weeping cock pushed hard against Tony's stomach. Tony chuckled and ran his fingertips down Steve's spine to tease his ass, leaving a trail of electrified nerves in his wake. Tony had barely touched him, but Steve felt like he was on a knife's edge already, ready to explode in a heartbeat.

Tony pulled him into the bedroom and pushed him to his knees next to the bed. He stood in front of him. "Open that filthy mouth. Show me that tongue."

Steve obediently opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

"You're such a filthy cocksucker - I remember that. God, I remember it like it was yesterday." Tony ran his thumb over Steve's upper lip then leaned over him to open a drawer. He came back with a bottle of lube which he tossed on the bed and a condom which he handed to Steve. Steve worked Tony's pants open and took his cock out, stroking it a few times just to feel the smooth, hot skin in his hand. He ripped open the condom and slid it over Tony's cock, following his hand with his mouth when Tony grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked him forward.

"Fuck, that's so good. You're such a dirty slut, spending all that time practicing so you can take such good care of me."

Steve moaned, swirling his tongue around the head of Tony's cock.

"Desperate, aren't you? Bet you could come just from my cock down your throat." Tony rocked forward, cutting off Steve's air supply for a moment then pulled back, letting Steve take over the rhythm again.

Steve expected to be on more solid ground with this - blowjobs he knew - but the way Tony's fingers twined through his hair, the little kicks of his hips, the way he smelled - like spice and sweat and sex - it was making Steve feel dizzy and untethered. He didn't remember his tricks, his experience, but he was so desperate to make Tony feel good that it didn't matter. He threw himself into getting Tony off with all he had, and every moan and grind and twitch sent a shockwave of arousal deep into his core.

"Okay, okay - hold on." Tony pushed him back. "Fuck, that's going to make me come. And I have a better idea." Tony pulled him up to his feet again then turned him to face the bed, pressing up close behind him. "Can I fuck you, baby?"

"Yes. Yes please." Steve couldn't help rubbing back against Tony; the zipper of his jeans bit the soft skin of Steve's ass and made him twitch. No one else had ever made him happy to beg before.

"Bend over." Heated command curled through Tony's voice and he pressed against the back of Steve's neck until he folded forward, his chest on the mattress and his ass in the air. The bottle snapped and then slick fingers pressed at Steve's hole. Tony's other hands petted down his spine and over the curve of his ass. "You're a goddamn piece of art," Tony hummed, more to himself than to Steve.

Steve resisted the urge to squirm on Tony's fingers as they stretched him open, found every tingling nerve with unerring accuracy. He had a feeling the more eager he appeared to be, the more Tony would delight in taking his time. But when Tony pressed against his prostate, Steve couldn't hold back the shudder that rippled down his spine.

How could Tony take him apart so easily with just one touch? Steve felt like he'd known Tony for a hundred years, his touch familiar and grounding, but they barely knew each other. It was a heady, dizzy sensation to be at Tony's mercy like this, not just physically, but down to his core. It felt dangerous too.

Tony's teeth landed on his ass and Steve yelped, clenching around Tony's fingers and making him rumble with a low growl. "You ready?"

Steve nodded furiously, afraid of how breathless his voice would come out. He expected Tony to just push right into him, but instead, he pulled Steve back and climbed on the bed. He'd lost his clothes while he was fingering Steve open, and Steve took a moment, to enjoy the view of lean, tight muscles and tanned olive skin.

Tony crooked a finger at Steve, stroking his hand idly up and down his cock. Steve climbed up on the bed and straddled Tony's hips. Tony pushed at Steve's elbows until his arms bent up on either side of his head, hands tucked behind his neck. "Keep them there." He petted his fingers over Steve's face then hooked his thumb over bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut when Steve sucked hard. He eased Steve down until he could feel the press of his cock against his slick hole. "Ride me, baby."

Steve slid down Tony's cock with a moan that shuddered down his spine. Tony stretched him wide and filled him up. He rolled his hips and Tony moaned. Hot fingers explored every inch of his skin, pointedly skirting around his cock and he was aching. "Please," he couldn't help gasping out, rocking up and down on Tony's cock with no touch for his own.

But every thrust of his hips was driving Tony against his prostate, and pleasure built in a jagged staircase of gasps and moans, until he was so close he knew just one stroke would push him over. Tony purred and teased his nipple again, rocking his hips with Steve's movements. Then Steve shifted and Tony groaned, eyes squeezing shut. He grabbed Steve by both hips and silently urged him to move faster.

Steve twisted his fingers together behind his head and bit his bottom lip, rolling his hips as fast as he could, chasing his pleasure. Tony's hands clenched and released on his hips in a steady rhythm, chest heaving with gasps. His head was thrown back, throat a taut line as his mouth worked with silent words.

"Tony, please," Steve begged, digging his nails into his scalp to keep from touching himself. His cock slapped against his stomach each thrust sending a shockwave straight to the weeping tip.

"God, you're amazing," Tony breathed, then his hand came down and wrapped around Steve's cock, gripping firm, stroking roughly.

Steve swore and shuddered forward, coming almost immediately, spraying over Tony's chest He curved in on himself, feeling wobbly as he stared down at his spent cock.

"Don't stop," Tony demanded, shoving at his hips urgently.

Steve groaned and started rocking back and forth again, his muscles whimpering with the effort. Tony spewed forth a torrent of words, encouraging, filthy, skin-heating words that made Steve never want to stop, even though the pressure of Tony's cock against his prostate was making his nerves scream with overstimulation.

"I'm gonna come, don't stop." Tony's fingernails dug in. "Yeah, ride me, baby." Tony's eyes snapped open and deep brown met Steve's. "You're so good at that, gorgeous, so naughty. Bet you could ride me all night. Bet you'd come again if I wasn't so fucking close to blowing."

Steve gasped and swallowed heavily. Tony was probably right. It would be right on the edge of pain and pleasure, but his cock was staying hard with the continued stimulation. "Please, Tony." he begged. "Come for me."

"Nuh - since you asked so nicely -" Tony braced his feet on the mattress and arched back, holding onto Steve with a bruising grip on both hips. He thrust up to meet Steve's rocking, setting of fireworks of pleasure at the new angle, then he pulled Steve down onto him and sighed. Steve could feel Tony throbbing his release deep inside him, jerking with every wave of pleasure which made Steve clench down on him harder.

Steve pitched forward, chest heaving, only managing to catch himself with a hand smacked against the headboard at the last minute. "Oh my god."

Tony's hands skated up his sides then eased him down onto his side next to him. Their gazes locked and they did nothing more than stare at each other for a while, breathing slowly sinking back to normal.

Tony was so undeniably beautiful in the moment, and Steve's heart clenched painfully. His eyes glittered, sweat beaded up on his neck and sticking dark curls to his hairline. He was so accessible like this, almost touchable, but Steve wasn't quite close enough after all, as much as he wished he was. Tony was worlds away, his closeness an illusion that Steve couldn't afford to fall into.

Once he was breathing normally again, Steve broke their tense staring contest and rose from the bed. He threw out the condom, rescuing the lube from a tangle of sheets and placing it on Tony's bedside table.

"Let's clean up," Tony said, bouncing to his feet with a sudden rush of energy. He dragged Steve to the bathroom and switched the opulent shower on. Steve found himself under the hot spray for the second time in only a few hours, but he opted to rinse himself off and help Tony wash his hair instead of giving his a second go.

Tony groaned and leaned back against him when Steve started working the shampoo in with firm fingers, rubbing over his scalp then down his neck.

They dried off with fluffy towels then Tony padded out to the living room - buck naked - and came back with the robe Steve had been wearing. He tossed it to him. "You're staying the night, right?"

Steve opened his mouth then closed it again. He shouldn't. Sleeping beside Tony all night wasn't going to help his little crush. He also shouldn't get used to 500 thread count sheets and a mattress as thick as a vault door since his next night's sleep was probably going to be on a cardboard box in an alley somewhere. But he had nowhere else to go, it was cold, and Tony was offering. He felt safe here, even though his heart was dangerously at risk, and he couldn't bring himself to say no. "If that's okay."

"Course it is, gorgeous. Never going to pass up an opportunity for a sleepover with you. It's like sleeping with a heated body pillow. Best night I've had in a long time on that shitty futon of yours."

Steve snorted. "If I'd known royalty was coming over, I would have borrowed something nicer."

Tony stepped forward and pressed his whole body against Steve's, his shower-heated skin radiating right through the soft plush of the robe Steve had slipped into. "Oh don't worry about that… who needs a nice bed when I have you to sleep on?"

Steve swallowed heavily and watched, rapt, as Tony traced a finger down the front of his chest to the tie of the robe. Impulsively, Steve leaned in and drew Tony into a rough kiss. Tony hummed and opened to it, letting Steve wrap his arms tightly around Tony's waist and haul him close. Steve traced the edge of Tony's lips with his tongue then pushed past the seam, tasting the breath Tony had panted against his shoulder.

When they parted, Tony's eyes were slow to flutter open again. "So I can take that as a yes to staying?"

Steve smiled. "Yes, I'll stay."

"Perfect. Still early. What do you want to do?" Tony stretched tall, something popping, then took a robe of his own off the hook, leading Steve back out into the living room.

Steve shrugged. He usually hung out at the bar looking for Johns until it was late enough that he was exhausted and he staggered home to bed. "What do you normally do?" It didn't feel like Tony was testing him, but all the same, Steve felt like there was a right answer that he couldn't come up with.  

Tony found their plates behind the couch and brought them into the kitchen. He pried open one of the containers and started popping shrimp in his mouth, offering it to Steve. They stood side-by-side, leaning against the counter, and worked their way through the rest of the container. "Is it too domestic to watch TV?" Tony asked, eyes glittering with something amused.

"Course not."

"Alright." Tony tossed the empty container and took Steve's hand, pulling him back to the couch. He deposited Steve on the cushions then climbed on top of him, managing to wrap himself around Steve like an octopus and still have a clear view of the massive flat screen. With an armful of Tony settled comfortably against his chest, it occurred to Steve for the first time that it was weird a man like Tony would hire a hooker for this - for any of this.

Tony was incredibly hot, rich, famous, kind, funny, and easy going. He was romantic at heart, but sizzlingly sexy when he turned it on, and he was amazing in bed. It was kind of crazy that Tony was shelling out cash to have Steve here, when he could walk into any bar in the country and immediately have four or five hotties hanging off his arms - men and women.

And it was becoming increasingly clear that Tony was a bit touch starved, or at least, that he really enjoyed being touched. Steve wasn't sure why he was the one Tony was touching, but he found it hard to complain when Tony's fingers started petting lines up the inside of his knee, his other arm wrapped around Steve's bicep, holding Steve's arm around him. Steve leaned his cheek against Tony's head and tried to push it from his mind. Who cared why? He was here now, and there was every chance he wouldn't get to be here again, so he should enjoy it.

They watched TV for a few hours. Steve tried to follow the show, and Tony was diligent in explaining everything he'd missed to him, but Tony's warm weight in his arms and the safety of his penthouse apartment, the soft cushions of the couch, and a full stomach of food - not to mention a mind-blowing orgasm - had Steve fighting sleep almost immediately. It was several episodes before Tony noticed.

"Hey," he said softly, and Steve jerked back to full wakefulness.

"Sorry." Steve blinked at him.

Tony chuckled. "Don't be sorry. Let's go to bed, sleepyhead."

Steve followed Tony back into the bedroom, noting for the first time that the duffle bag he'd left in the elevator was now at the foot of Tony's bed. He wondered when Tony had moved it in there, knowing he ought to be embarrassed, but instead he was just relieved that Tony didn't seem to care. It was a tiny touch that made Steve feel like he was welcome here.

They both dropped their robes and crawled into bed. Tony climbed on top and kissed Steve, deep and heated for a long time, but he didn't take it any further, and eventually, he settled on Steve's chest, one hand curled possessively around his hip.

It didn't take long at all for the pull of sleep to drag Steve under.

**

Steve woke early, a night on a billionaire's mattress apparently worth ten times what he usually got in half the time. Tony was sprawled close beside Steve, the two of them crammed in the middle of the massive king-sized bed. His hand rested high on Steve's thigh, fingers teasingly close to his morning wood.

Steve turned and stared at the tufts of brown hair that stuck out of the blankets by the lump that was Tony. He wanted to stay more than anything which was exactly why he had to leave. Tony would be fine with it, Steve was sure. Tony seemed fine with the idea of Steve being there forever; he honestly couldn't imagine being kicked out. He could go back to sleep, and make pancakes in the morning, keep wearing Tony's robe until it was his, and live the good life for free.

But it wouldn't be real.

They'd never be able to go out, be together in public. He wouldn't be Tony's boyfriend, he'd be his property, hidden here in the tower, a sex toy to be taken out whenever Tony got lonely. And one day, Tony would find someone real, and he'd say goodbye - kindly, Steve was sure - but he'd leave, and all Steve would have left would be some cash, a robe he'd worn a hole in that once was Tony's, and a broken heart.

He couldn't risk it.

Steve slipped out of bed and into the bathroom with his duffle. He brushed his teeth in the grey dawn light from the window then got dressed, layering up in case he spent most of the day - and maybe night - outside in the cold.

Steve resisted the urge to look at Tony's sleeping face as he tiptoed past the bed and back out to the living room. He felt a heavy draw pulling him back, like a magnet, an insidious voice whispering go back to bed, it'll be alright, just for now. He had to be more careful. He stepped out into the crisp early-morning air and tugged his jacket closed around him. New York was turning out to be a risky move.

Chapter Text

The city that never slept was alive and busting even this early in the morning, and Steve slumped down in his jacket as the subway car rattled him back and forth. The warmth and pleasure of Tony's bed felt a hundred miles away. Any fleeting security found in Tony's food, and shelter, and touch had evaporated - Steve didn't even know where he was going.

Tony: You didn't wake me up.

Steve stared down at the phone in his hand. He hadn't expected Tony to get up so early, and having him join his space - even just through his phone - threw him off all kilter all over again.

Steve: You looked so peaceful. I'm sure you don't get enough sleep, Tony.

Tony: That's adorable. But I didn't pay you.

Steve's growling stomach argued at length with his personal sense of propriety. He wanted the money. Of course he wanted the money. But he couldn't take it.

Steve: You paid me for at least five nights last time and only took one. I owed you. I still do.

Tony: That's not how tips work, Steve.

Steve: It's okay, Tony.

Tony: It's really not. I have to pay you. Send me your bank info or your paypal or something.

Steve thought about the envelope stuffed back down the front of his pants and snorted to himself.

Steve: I don't have either of those things.

Tony: Ugh. What am I going to do with you?

Steve: You don't seem to struggle to come up with ideas. 

Steve smirked, a hot flush of pleasure shuddering south at the memories of the night before.

Tony: Cheeky.
Tony: Send me your email.

Unable to find an argument not to, Steve did. Five minutes later, he received a text message. He opened it to find a letter welcoming him to StarkWallet with a starting balance of $1500.00.

Steve: Tony.

Tony: Now it's up to you what you do with it. I figure your nightly rate is higher in the city ;)
Tony: Also: this suit.

Steve couldn't help smiling even as his stomach churned. 

Steve: Don't remember a suit last night…

Tony: A certain robe though… never washing that thing.

There was something too affectionate about that and it reminded Steve of the dress shirt he had shoved in the bottom of his duffel, also never washed. The suit, he had sold. But the shirt… smelled like Tony.

Unable to handle the way Tony's texts made him want to immediately turn back to Manhattan, Steve set his phone to silent and tucked it in his pocket. He didn't have time to flirt anyway; he had until nightfall to find a place to live or wouldn't be getting any sleep for some time.

He got off the train back in Brooklyn and circled back to the apartment he thought he'd rented before. Two men were carrying a shabby couch up the fire escape stairs. Steve sighed. He dug a notebook out of his bag, put his arms through the straps so he could wear it like a backpack, and set off down the street.

Steve made his way up and down every block in Red Hook, writing down the phone number from every "For Rent" sign he saw, along with the address. When his feet were aching too much to go on, he bought a pretzel and a juice from a street vendor and found a park bench to rest on, trying very hard to look like he was a tourist instead of homeless. 

Anyway, it didn't count as homeless until night fell. Right?

Steve pointedly ignored the fact that he'd already spent a night in the city without a home, he'd just been lucky enough to sleep between someone else's sheets, get fed. Tony's sheets… A pang of longing twisted Steve's gut and he shoved the last of the pretzel in his mouth just to give his body something else to do. He wondered briefly how many nights in a row he could bother Tony before the celebrity billionaire finally blocked his number and moved on to other things. Somehow the prospect of that hurt more than the humiliation of spending a night on the sidewalk.

When the pretzel and juice were done, Steve balanced his notebook on his knee and started calling.

It was the same everywhere. The apartments that were tolerable enough that he could bring a client there needed a credit check and proof of income. The apartments that were shitty enough not to need those things still wanted at least a reference. And every single one was too expensive. He needed an address to get a bank account and a bank account to get an address and he couldn't afford either.

His mind kept crawling back to the place he thought he'd rented. It was perfect for what he needed because it was a shared room so it wasn't too expensive, but it was a separate attic - surely unbearably hot in high summer, but private enough for a blow job. And he wasn't going to be on the lease, so they'd said they'd take him cash in hand. And they'd lied.

He tapped his pen over the last number on the list. It too had yielded nothing.

Steve let himself sit and wallow for a while, watching the birds and squirrels in the park and the kids running around in their parkas and mittens. When his body had managed to transform the meagre calories into strength, he pushed up, put his bag on his back again and set off for the library.

The warmth inside was a deep relief. Steve hadn't realized how cold he'd gotten - working up a sweat walking and then sitting - until he pushed through the door and a wave of warm air curled around him. There were computer cubbies in the corner, thankfully free to use, even without a library card, and Steve settled in and took off his coat. He got out his notebook again, went to craigslist, and started all over again.

Six hours, five websites, and countless phone calls later, he was no better off. He could afford a room in a shared house where he wouldn't be able to work, which meant everything he did had to be at a client's house - which never felt safe - in a public space - usually a bar bathroom - or at hotels which was expensive. Blowjobs in bathrooms were a specialty of his, but they didn't rake in the dough, and if that was his only option, it wouldn't be long before he'd be at risk of not being able to pay even that much rent. 

An apartment of his own would be much easier to work in, but also well out of his price range. Not that it mattered. No one would rent to someone who barely had a background, like him. Hours later, his voice was hoarse and frustration was starting to overpower everything else. Instead of risking snapping at a potential landlord, Steve gave up. He shoved his notebook back in his bag and left the library. 

It was getting dark outside, the sun taking the last of the warmth with it. With nothing better to do, he went back to the same neighbourhood he'd started in and took another turn around. His feet ached and his bag was getting heavy. He could call Tony again, but after last night, there would be no way he could play this off as a job. Tony would know he had nowhere else to go and that thought made his stomach twist up with a different kind of humiliation that wasn't pleasant at all.

There was an alcove next to the stairs of the apartment building and something about the area made him feel comfortable. Maybe it was the group down the street in short, tight clothes, waving at the cars that drove by. Steve smiled. He was among his people at least, but he couldn't risk trying to hook a place for the night on someone else's turf. He dropped his bag and tucked himself into the alcove, in need of a break, physically and mentally. 

There was cover there, and it was easy to snuggle down in his layers and rest his eyes. It was still cold out, but Steve flicked the hood of his sweater up under his jacket and let out a long sigh. After spending so long trying to get back to New York, it was a deep, hard ache that the city itself was fighting him at every turn. It felt like home, but it also sort of felt like home didn't want him.

**

Steve woke up cold and damp, his stomach raw with hunger and his head pounding from the awkward angle he'd slept at. He groaned as he shoved himself upright, and a soft, silky voice said, "You okay, hun?"

He blinked at the young woman who was sitting on the steps next to his corner. She had a coffee cup by her hip, a cigarette between two fingers, and a shiny, new StarkPhone balanced on her knee. Her long, red hair was piled up on top of her head in a messy bun, and her well-worn sweater slipped down over one shoulder. Rolled up leggings revealed delicate yet strong ankles.

Steve pushed himself further upright. "I'm fine, thank you."

"You have stunning eyes," she said, with an odd, detached tone, as if Steve were a painting and not a person. 

"Yeah, well you should see my ass," he shot back on reflex.

The woman burst out laughing, seemingly genuinely delighted. She sipped her coffee and her eyes dropped to her phone. 

Steve stripped off a few of his layers, caught between sweaty and cold, and pushed his hair back, scratching his fingers along his scalp and rolling out his shoulders. The air wasn't that brisk in the morning sun, but Steve's body was still in sleep mode, and he shivered as his systems came back online one by one. 

"Smoke?" the woman offered, holding out a pack and a cigarette.

Steve didn't smoke much anymore - it was too expensive - but this one was cheaper than breakfast, so he nodded and accepted the pack. While he lit up, the woman looked him up and down. 

"You sure you're okay?"

"I just got in last night," Steve explained with a puff of white smoke. He handed the pack back. "Thought I had a place lined up but I didn't. I'll be fine." The nicotine was clearing his head already, helping him pull in a full breath that didn't end in a shudder. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The woman folded herself down and wrapped her arms around her knees. "What'd you come here for?"

Steve shrugged. "I grew up here. Came home, I guess. Thought I could get work here."

"Oh?" Her eyebrow quirked up. "What do you do?"

Steve drew in another deep pull from the cigarette and let it leak slowly from his lips, curling around his head. "Suck cock, mostly."

"Ha!" She laughed again, shoulders shaking. "Are you ever in the right place, pretty eyes."

"Steve." He held out his hand and she shook it. 

"Natasha."

"Why am I in the right place?"

"Well. You're either in the right place or the very worst wrong place. This whole building is owned by Fury."

Steve shook his head. "I don't know what that means."

"It means if you want a roof over your head, a safe place to bring those cocks before you suck them, and some security in case things go wrong, you've got the right place. If you're planning on working this street on your own, you're very much in the wrong place."

"Fury's a pimp?"

Natasha stubbed out her cigarette on the stoop and flicked the butt aside. She sipped her coffee again. "Yeah. It's a classy establishment, though. You get to keep sixty percent if you pay rent or forty percent if you don't. He gets you a phone and keeps you out of trouble. He has a website, so you can get work without crawling corners. I think it's a pretty good gig."

"You work for him?"

"Mhm." She nodded slowly. "I do a lot of phone stuff. I'm really a ballet dancer. What are you really?"

Steve took another hit to cover up the fact that he had no answer for that question. He shook his head, eventually. "It's all I've ever been."

Natasha hummed in a vague way. 

"So how does one get in with this Fury guy? If I were interested?"

"I can get you a meeting. I won't vouch for you cause I don't know shit about you, but I can get you in the office. You want?"

Steve watched a cab trundle down the street. "Ask me again before you go inside."

"Okay."

Steve drew another lungful of smoke. He'd never worked for someone else and he'd heard a lot of horror stories. It was appealing, though, and it'd solve almost all of his immediate problems in one fell swoop - a place to live, a way to work, and possibly even a better phone. It'd mean making money right away, but making less of it because of the cut Fury would take. Though more work overall could work out to more money even after the cut. And maybe if he was online or part of a service he could charge more.

Besides, unlike most other people, he wasn't saving up to escape. He'd already done that. Now he was home; this was his escape, and he wasnt stupid enough to think there was any higher up the ladder he could climb. Trading a truck stop for the back of a cab had been his only goal for years. He just needed enough money to live, enough to set a bit aside so when his looks faded and no one wanted him anymore, he wouldn't starve. Besides, he could do phone sex even when he was grey and wrinkled. He just wanted to get by.   

Natasha finished her coffee and stood, mug in one hand, phone and cigarettes in the other. She looked down at Steve with a raised eyebrow. 

Steve snubbed out the last of his cigarette and blew out a tight breath. "Set it up."

"Okay. Be back here at eleven."

"Thank you."

She patted him on the shoulder as she turned to walk back up the steps. 

Steve stood up and stretched out the rest of the kinks and twists from the night. He swapped his sweatshirt for a clean one in his duffel and set off for the library again. He used the bathroom there to freshen up then sat at the computer. He felt kind of horrible using the library computer to look at escort ads, but he didn't really have a choice. He needed to know what he was walking into. Besides, the computer automatically cleared the search history of each session, and there was no one else in the computer cubbies besides him so he didn't have to worry about scandalizing a passer-by.

It didn't take long to find Fury's website. It was a fairly impressive affair. There were at least sixty hookers all working for him. The site listed each one, divided by what services they provided. Some fell more into the high-class escort category, and some were more like Steve: bare "bones" services. Straight to the money. There were also a few phone sex lines, like what Natasha had been talking about. Steve had never tried that - advertising was too expensive - but he wouldn't mind giving it a go.

It was sleek and efficient, and enticing, Steve had to admit. Hanging out at a truck stop might have worked in the middle of nowhere, where a blowjob every other day would cover all his expenses and then some, but here in the city, he'd have to do thirty just to pay rent, and that was assuming he could still charge fifty bucks with all the competition. 

There were obvious downsides to a pimp, but a meeting wasn't agreement. Steve could talk to the guy and see if he was a creep, find out if it'd be hard to get out if he decided it wasn't for him. 

He did another room for rent search, turning up nothing good, freshened up a bit, then set off back for Natasha's building. At eleven, he was waiting at the same steps he'd slept against the night before.  

A blond guy in a mesh shirt and purple shorts with a huge gash across one cheek sauntered down the steps to Steve, snapping his gum. "You Steve?"

"Yeah."

"Clint." He held out a hand and Steve shook it. "Welcome to the circus. Come with me."

Steve followed him up the stairs and into the building. Steve gestured to his cheek. "Who did that?"

Clint laughed. "Oh, nah. It wasn't a client. I tripped over my laptop cable and hit my face on the TV stand."

Steve snorted.

"Don't worry, man. It's good here, honest. They don't stand for that kind of shit. Strike has your back."

"What's Strike?" Steve asked, but they'd reached a door and Clint knocked without answering.

"Come in."

Clint ushered Steve through the door then followed in after him. There was a man sitting behind a desk who had a look that suggested he hadn't been amused by anything in a few hundred years. Steve sat in the chair he was offered, and Clint leaned over him to snag a candy from a bowl on the desk. 

The man quirked an eyebrow in his direction. "Could you please fuck off, Barton," he said flatly.

"Roger that, sir. I'm going to join chat."

"Whatever gets you out of my hair."

Clint patted Steve on the shoulder and stepped out, swinging the door shut behind him.

"My name is Nick Fury," the man behind the desk said. 

"Steve Rogers."

"You new to this lifestyle, Steve?"

"No, sir. Been hooking quite a few years now."

"Clean?"

"Yes, sir."

"You ever get in trouble?"

"No, sir, never been pregnant." 

Fury just looked at him, and Steve mentally smacked himself for being a smartass.

"What kind of trouble?"

Fury's scowl deepened in a way that almost felt like a smile. "Ever been picked up for solicitation?"

Steve shook his head with a smile. "No, sir. I'm careful."

"Mhm…" Fury flipped open a book on his desk. "There's two ways I do this. Either you pay your own bills and I take a cut or I pay your bills and take a bigger cut. If I pay your bills, I pick your rates and most of your clients, too. Pay your own bills and you can pick your clients, but I still have a quota of hours booked through the site."

Steve nodded.

"This is a business, not a charity, but I also know that it pays to keep your employees happy, so I do. I run a tight ship - that means no drugs, no fucking me over, and no in-fighting. In return you get safety, client connections, and monthly testing. My people are happy. They're also only my people if they obey the rules. That sound good to you?"

Steve nodded again. 

"Alright." Fury handed over a packet of papers. "This is the deal. You bring these back by eight pm and you're in. If you don't, I assume you changed your mind. Any questions?"

"Uh. Just one. I'm new in town but I have one client here already. What kind of cut do you take from him?"

"How much you charge him?"

Steve tried not to shift in his seat. "I charge him three hundred a night." It wasn't technically a lie. "He likes to have me stay over."

"Yeah, alright. Ten percent for him cause I'm a nice guy. Everyone new is at the full rate. And you have to meet your quota without. No spending all your nights at the ninety percent gig and fucking me over."

"Okay. And tips?"

"You keep your tips."

"Alright. Sounds good, sir."

"That's because it is good. Now get outta here. Eight PM."

Steve took the packet of papers and left. He walked until he found a place to sit - a concrete ledge along an office building - and he settled in, the papers in his lap. He read through them carefully, searching for anything that might cause a problem. It wasn't like he could hire a lawyer if Fury went back on his word, but if it came down to it, he could cut and run. 

By early afternoon, Steve had made up his mind. He'd take the option to pay his own bills with a lower cut. He had enough set aside that he could cover things for at least a month while he built up a client base, and he'd rather choose his own clients and his own rates. At Fury's he'd have people around him who understood what he was doing and wouldn't judge, a safe place to bring new clients, and access to new clients. Both Natasha and Clint seemed happy working there, and that was a good sign. 

At the end of the day, Steve wasn't scared of Fury. He'd disappeared before, he could do it again. This was the best offer he was going to get, when it came to something like this.

He filled out his information - what little of it he had - on the last page and brought the papers back to Fury at four. By eight, he was standing in his new apartment.

It wasn't much - a single room with an attached bathroom and a kitchenette, but it was clean, and solid, and it was his. It came with a bed, a fridge, and a microwave, plus a brand new cell phone on the group data plan. The phone had a bunch of apps installed, including the one they used to connect with clients, and Steve ended up spending almost two hours sitting cross-legged on his very own bed, filling out his profile. 

With that done, he took a shower, changed, then walked to the bodega on the corner. He bought bread, eggs, deli meat, and lettuce then took pictures of every gym advertisement on the notices wall. If he wanted to stay competitive in a place this busy, he needed to keep up the workouts he'd let slide when Daisy's truck stop was his turf and no one else's.

He slept like a rock the first night, catching up on what he'd lost outside the night before, then spent most of the morning unpacking. He didn't have much in his duffle. Most of what he'd owned he'd sold before his move. He had his clothes, some toiletries, and his supplies for work. He also had two books, both his mother's, a copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and To Kill a Mockingbird. The bed was furnished, but the apartment didn't come with anything else, so Steve started making a list of what he was going to need to get, if he was going to stay here for any length of time at all - which it seemed like he would be.

He dug thirty dollars out of his stash in the freezer then wandered down the hall to Natasha's room and knocked on her door. She opened it.

She smirked and leaned one hip against the doorway. "Hey, pretty eyes. Decided to stay?"

"Yeah. Can I buy you coffee? Maybe get some advice in exchange?"

She very obviously looked him up and down then nodded. "Sure. I wasn't doing anything."

"Thanks."

She took him to a cafe around the corner that was at least twenty years out of date, style wise, but smelled amazing when she pushed the door open, like espresso and chocolate. They ordered and snagged a table by the window. 

"Feeling a bit overwhelmed?" she asked, with a smile that had a bit of a predatory edge to it, but was kind nonetheless. 

Steve nodded. 

"That's alright. That's normal."

"I don't even know where to buy a plate," Steve said with a laugh.

"Thought you said you grew up here?" She sipped her coffee.

"Long time ago. It's all different."

"You'll figure it out. I can show you a second hand shop on the way home."

"Thank you," Steve said with genuine gratitude. 

"That's not what you want to ask me, though, is it?"

He shook his head. "No… I just - I've never worked like this. And I wanted to know if there were any… dynamics, I should know about?"

Natasha quirked an eyebrow in an invitation to expand.

"I don't want to step on anyone's toes or cause any conflict."

Natasha smiled. "You're actually that adorable, aren't you?"

Steve shrugged. "Guess so."

"As long as you don't poach a client who's already booked, you'll be fine. If someone's showing up cause they've got an appointment and you sweep them on the front steps or lie and say you're the person they're booked with, you'll be out on your ass and it'll be black and blue. You don't want to even make it seem like it might have been something you were thinking of doing. Strike tends to hit first and ask questions never."

"Who's Strike?"

"Fury's lapdogs - Rumlow and his crew. If I'm honest, they're useful. I feel safer knowing they'll kick the shit out of anyone who tries to hurt me or steal from me, but, you know, you hire a bunch of goons to kick the shit out of people, they tend to be the kind of people who enjoy the kicking a bit too much."

"They ever - ah - they ever want anything in exchange?"

Nat snorted. "Like a tip?" Steve nodded. "Nah. Fury won't let em. Doesn't want them making their protection transactional, though it doesn't stop them from having favourites. But no, they keep their hands to themselves." Nat pointed her spoon at Steve. "You get in trouble, you call Strike. You call Fury. That's it. They can be a bunch of assholes sometimes, but their job is to bail you out and they're good at it. Stay off drugs and keep Strike's number memorized and you'll be alright. They rotate who's on call."

"Okay. Thanks for the advice."

Conversation shifted to chit-chat, after that, mostly shit-talking bad clients they'd had. Nat had some great stories about some of her phone clients, including a few times when someone had clearly walked in on them and the client had pretended they were talking to the bank or a car dealership.  

"My cashier-at-a-hardware-store voice is getting pretty good," she said. "Almost as good as my leather queen purr." She snorted. "All clients are dumb as stumps, though. At least some of them are rich, too."

'Hmm."

"You disagree?"

Steve's cheeks heated without his permission. "I mean… well, I have one client. He's pretty nice. Treats me well."

"It's a fantasy." She dismissed the possibility with a wave of her hand. "He'll get bored and treat you as shittily as the rest of them. Either that or the first time he sees you in public and pretends he doesn't know you… Don't get all mushy for a John, Steve. Rule one."

"I know, I know. I wasn't saying I was mushy. He's just good in bed and rich. And he always feeds me something nice."

Natasha chuckled. "Kinky?"

Steve laughed and shook his head. "He fixed my faucet once."

She stared at him, incredulous. "What are you talking about?"

"Nevermind." He sipped his coffee. "Tell me about the plush tiger guy. You mentioned him before."

"Oh, right. Buckle up, this one gets nutty."

Natasha walked him two blocks down to a second hand store to get a few necessities like a plate and some silverware then took him back to their building. She kissed him on the cheek when they parted at her door. "Take care of yourself, Steve. You're too pretty to be sad."

He laughed lightly and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "Thanks." 

Steve spent the rest of the afternoon fussing around his apartment and setting up apps on his phone. He checked Fury's client booking app every hour, but by nine o'clock there was still no action on his account. Old habits died hard, so Steve got dressed, rubbed some gel through his hair, and set off for the nearest dive bar. He ordered a long island iced tea, missing Daisy deeply when it didn't taste quite right, and sat himself on the edge of the bartop, facing the room. 

The speakers pumped Don't Stop Believing into the room, and Steve couldn't help shaking his head with a smile. Nothing changed, not really. Not at the heart of things.

This time, no thousand dollar suits walked in, but plenty of torn t-shirts and ratty jeans did. It was over an hour before Steve had a mark - a sad-looking, blond guy by himself in the corner. For the first twenty minutes, he kept looking up like he was expecting someone, then he scowled at his phone and stopped, nursing his drink with a pout. Stood up. And judging by the way his eyes raked over the ass of the guy bending over the pool table, not by a woman.

Steve made his way over to the guy's table and sat down. "Hey, I'm Steve."

The guy looked startled, but very obviously checked Steve out, eyes dragging up and down his painted-on t-shirt. "Dan."

"Someone do you wrong, tonight, Dan?" Steve purred.

Dan nodded. "Tinder." He waved his phone and sighed. 

Steve wrapped his lips around his straw and sucked then rolled his eyes back up to Dan. "You know, Dan, treat me nicely and I'm a sure thing."

"Oh," Dan said, blinking. He shifted in his chair. "You're…"

"On the clock? Yeah."

"How… uh. How much?"

Steve leaned closer. "Fifty and I'll take you in the back and show you a good time." He sucked on the straw again to emphasize his point. "One fifty and I show you my place."

The guy swallowed hard, eyes dropping to Steve's mouth. "I dunno…"

Steve smiled softly and kept working on his drink, waiting. 

"Um. How do we…?"

"Go to the bathroom and get the money out. I'll meet you there in two minutes."

Dan scurried off, and Steve opened his phone to the new app. He turned on "Client Mode" then gave it a few more moments before he left his empty glass to make his way to the bathrooms at the back. He slipped into the men's room to find Dan leaning against the counter with a wad of cash in his hands. Steve pulled him into a stall and locked the door. He took the money and put it in his pocket then dropped to his knees. 

It was comforting, really, that all over America, all Johns were the same. Steve bobbed his head and worked his throat and stroked his hand, and Dan moaned and gasped and thrusted too hard. Years of practice served Steve well and his jaw didn't get sore, arm didn't get tired, and his body continued on autopilot while his mind wandered.

Steve had almost completely redesigned his apartment with an imaginary Ikea gift card when Dan started shaking and his hand snapped to Steve's hair. Steve sucked him through his release, rolling his throat muscles to milk everything from Dan's cock.

"Oh, shit," Dan breathed, slumping backwards against the wall. 

Steve sat back and licked his lips for show. He took the condom when Dan pulled it off and tied it. He stood up and put a hand on Dan's chest. "How you feeling?"

Dan smiled. "Great. Thank you."

"Thank you." Steve patted him. "Take your time. I'll go first."

Dan made a vague noise of agreement, and Steve patted him again then left, fifty bucks richer. He caught the eye of the bartender on his way out to see if it was going to be a problem if he kept trawling here, but she barely seemed to notice him. Steve turned client mode off, watching his account click up on both money and hours tracked, and took a new seat at the other end of the bar.

Dan wandered out a few minutes later and left, shooting Steve a small, grateful smile. Steve washed the taste of condom out of his mouth with another drink. He stayed for two more hours, but no one else caught his eye and two more attempts at seduction were shot down. At one in the morning, Steve bailed. Fifty bucks for a night wasn't exactly exciting, but it was better than nothing. 

Steve pulled his jacket tightly around him as he jogged across the street, dodging taxis. It was a deep relief to step into his own space and close and lock the door behind him. He flopped forward onto the bed with a groan. Sometimes, after working, he had the urge to jack off - pent up sexual energy - but he wasn't feeling it tonight. Eventually, he slapped a piece of deli meat on a piece of white bread and ate it then crawled into bed and fell asleep.

**

It was three days of blowjobs at the bar before Steve got a request on the app. There wasn't a last name on the profile, just "Aaron," and all he'd requested was basic anal, nothing fancy. Steve's heart thudded at the thought of branching out like this, but really, it wasn't that different than picking someone up at the bar, right?

Though, at least at a bar, Steve could judge them a little before making a move, but it wasn't like his judgement was perfect. He screwed up. And the app was designed to try and filter people out who wouldn't be worth his time. It also handled all the payment so he wouldn't have to ask for the money, which made his heart flip each time. 

He hit accept.

Since Aaron was looking for a little more than a quick blow in a dark bathroom, Steve took to his bathroom and gave himself a full scrub down, shaving, moisturizing, and cleaning under his nails. It wasn't like he'd never brought people back to his place for work before. He'd done that all the time at Daisy's. But somehow this felt different. At Daisy's, he was people's only option. They were all passing through, and he got to size them up first and make his decision. Somehow being in the crowded city, and being selected from a list of other sex workers - no doubt more experienced and knowledgeable than him - put the pressure on in a way he'd never felt it before. 

His mind, for some reason, jumped to Tony. Maybe this guy would be nice like that, gentle and funny and caring. Maybe Steve would have a nice time and why on earth was he stressing about this so much? He'd done it a hundred times.

He tidied up, leaving just enough mess that the place looked lived in, then jogged downstairs to meet Aaron by the door. He rolled up five minutes later, looked Steve up and down and nodded. "Hey. Steve?"

"That's me." Steve gave him his most brilliant smile. "Come on up."

Aaron was… fine. Entirely honestly, Steve was making a shopping list in his head while Aaron grunted and thrusted. When he seemed close, Steve stroked himself and moaned, but didn't bother aiming for an orgasm. Aaron didn't seem to care anyway, so what was the point in pushing it?

When he was done, Steve flirted while he got dressed again. Aaron was punch-drunk from his orgasm, backing Steve up against the door and kissing him, hands wandering everywhere. Deftly, Steve slipped free of his embrace and re-dressed himself. "I can walk you out," he said pointedly.

Aaron pouted but agreed, and Steve walked him down to the front lobby. It definitely made things easier knowing he'd already been paid, that even though not all the money was going to him, it was being handled so he didn't have to. Especially with guys like Aaron who got stupid when they got a little action.

Steve guided him out the front door. "I had a great time," he cooed. "Thank you."

"Yeah…" Aaron tugged at his sleeve, leaning in close. "Hey, can I have your number?"

Steve frowned. "You can book me on the app any time you want, hot stuff."

"Yeah, but what if I want to text you some time? Or like book you for a party? Those weren't options on the app."

"Sorry, I don't do parties, stud. And you can send me a message through the app." Steve tried to move away, but Aaron's hand tightened around his bicep. 

"I don't want to use the app," Aaron gritted out. "Don't you get it? I can make it worth your while to take care of me directly, and your boss doesn't need to know. I pay a little less, you make a little more, hmm? And my parties are good. You'll have a great time."

"I don't do parties."

"I can hook you up, Steve. You'll be so blissed out you won't care how many guys are there."

"No." Steve took a step back, managing to wrench his arm free. "I'm not interested."

"God, you're such a dick. I'm trying to help you here, cause you're a nice piece of ass, but I guess you're as stuck-up as you are boring."

Steve opened his mouth to snap back when the front door of the building opened and a man he'd never met sauntered out. He had dark hair, spiked up in the front, a black t-shirt and black cargo pants, and dark stubble that made him look wild and a little bit dangerous. He smiled at Aaron, but it wasn't a nice smile. "Hey, buddy. Clogging up the door here. Everything okay?" The question was directed at Steve, even though he kept his eyes on Aaron.

"It's fine," Steve muttered.

"You should probably keep moving," the guy said to Aaron, jaw tense. "Cause if you don't, I'll have to black mark your account, and you're not going to like that."

Aaron scowled and jerked towards the guy, but he held out a hand.

"And if you start shit with me, I'll have to black mark your fucking face, and you're definitely not going to like that."

"Fuck you. Both of you. Slut," Aaron spat, and he turned and marched off.

"Everything okay?" the guy asked Steve.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Seen worse."

"Alright." He held out his hand. "Brock. I'm with Strike."

"Ah, right. The bodyguards."

He snorted. "Sure. Anyway, there's a panic button on your phone app. It'll also let you set up a button shortcode so you can push it without looking. If you run into trouble, just call us."

"Thanks."

Brock waited until Steve went back inside, turning down the hall to the left when Steve went straight along to the stairs. He went back up and swiped the app open, then set up his panic button shortcut. He flipped back to his account and watched the money from Aaron accumulate. 

Probably, he should be bothered, stressed out, maybe even offended, but he really had seen so much worse, and knowing there were people on his side, to back him up, to make sure the police didn't get called, it was such a relief. He felt more relaxed now than he had after a good John back at the bar. He had money in the bank, he had a place to stay, he had a friend in Natasha and maybe more potential friends in the building, and he had a steady job. Despite fucksticks like Aaron in the world, things were looking up.

**

The next week was pretty busy. Steve balanced hooking at his new top three bars with requests on the app, and he found himself worked hard most nights. The money wasn't exactly flowing in because a fair amount was going to Fury, but he was making enough to pay his bills, and there was a steadying comfort to knowing that there was a system in place. One of his new app clients was nice and seemed inclined to be a regular, and Natasha down the hall was showing signs of becoming a fast friend. 

On Friday night, Steve was surprised to find he hadn't had any app requests so he pondered the benefits of an easy night in instead of hitting the bar. Killing time while he tried to decide, he flicked through his phone apps. He didn't bother with social media, so there wasn't much on it to distract him, but flipping past the installed email app reminded him that he hadn't checked his since his first day in town.

He fussed through the menus, getting it set up, then watched the app load his messages. There were only two he hadn't seen, spam promising him a bigger dick - not needed, thank you very much - and:

Welcome to StarkWallet

It was a copy of the notification he'd had in his text when Tony had paid him after the night at his place. Tony. He'd gone a whole two weeks, never texted him back, never thought to reach out and see if he wanted another night of Steve's time. 

Because Tony was risky, and Steve had things sorted now. He didn't need a handout. But maybe that meant Tony wouldn't be so risky. Steve didn't need anything from him anymore, he could just be another John, another night. That would be okay.

Steve: All settled at my new place.

Steve sent the text before he could talk himself out of it. It'd be stupid, really, not to cultivate such a good client. Tony was rich and kind, and made Steve feel good. Why give up on that?

It was only twenty minutes before Tony texted back.

Tony: Hey, Macbeth. When's the housewarming party?

Steve grinned, tongue flicking out to wet suddenly dry lips. 

Steve: Bed warming party could be tonight if you're not busy.

Tony: That was illegally smooth.

Steve laughed out loud. He could hear Tony's voice saying the words. 

Tony: You really want me to come over?

Steve: I'll clear my schedule for you, Tony, any time.

Tony: Okay. Two hours.

Steve: Alright.

Steve was hit with a heady rush of anticipation. He fussed around the tiny apartment. Even with hardly any possessions, he managed to find things to straighten and tidy. When there was nothing left to fuss with, he fussed with himself, primping and plucking and sprucing. By the time Tony knocked on his door, Steve was already half-hard with anticipation. He all but ran to the door and pulled it open. 

Tony pinned Steve with a predatory grin right away and sauntered in, backing Steve up against the wall and gripping his hips with both hands. Steve smiled back at him, heart pounding, blood thudding down to his cock. "Nice place," Tony said against Steve's lips.

"Let me give you the grand tour," Steve breathed, and then sunk down to his knees. Tony braced both forearms against the wall and leaned forward, eyes closing as Steve fumbled for his zipper. 

Steve pulled Tony's cock out with one hand while digging a condom out of his pocket with the other. He rolled it down Tony's length and followed with his mouth, sucking and rolling his tongue. 

Tony whimpered and thrust forward, forcing Steve to back up against the wall, one knee folded down, the other up, keeping his balance by gripping two handfuls of Tony's pants. One of Tony's hands dropped to Steve's hair, fingers winding into the strands and getting a good grip on him. But instead of jerking Steve's head back and forth, Tony applied just enough pressure backwards that every time Steve bobbed forward to suck him down, his scalp tingled and he fought against Tony's strength. The mild pain and the inherent struggle ratcheted Steve's arousal up into near-painful territory, especially after the past two hours of anticipation.

Tony's cock pressed down his throat with rough, needy strokes, hips jerking forward over and over. There was a desperation in his movements that spun Steve's head until he was so hard he dropped a hand to his own lap and tugged down his zipper to free his cock. Tony's foot bumped forward into Steve's knee, and Steve wrapped his fingers around it, holding on for dear life as Tony's cock choked him. Drool spilled over his chin. 

Usually, with his clients, Steve wanted it over as fast as possible, but when he felt Tony's balls tighten up and his thrusts start to stutter out of rhythm, a needy whine slipped out of his throat; he didn't want it to be over. 

"Fuck, Steve. Your mouth is so filthy. God- damn -" Tony dug his fingers in hard and fucked forward into Steve's mouth, shuddering as he came.

Steve honest to god whimpered when Tony pulled away, leaving him bereft. 

"Look at you," Tony murmured breathlessly. "Good lord." His thumb pulled Steve's lip down then rubbed across his bottom teeth. 

"Tony…"

"I wish I could just keep you on your knees there, worked hard and wet, cock sticking out of your pants. Keep you there all the time just waiting for me."

Steve's tongue fell out of his mouth and he looked up through wet lashes at Tony.

"You need me to take care of you, baby?" Tony asked.

Steve didn't answer, but Tony reached out and eased him up to his feet. He drove Steve backwards to the bed and let him tip onto his back. He pulled Steve's pants off and bit and nipped his way up his legs to Steve's stomach where he bit down hard just above the jut of his hip. 

Steve squirmed, heart pounding with need. "Tony, please," he begged. 

"Beg again." Tony bit down hard with a groan.

"Please." 

Tony dragged his thumb down Steve's length and over his balls to tease at his hole. "Again."

"Tony, Tony… please. I need -"

Tony sucked on his thumb then rolled the wet tip around Steve's rim. Electric shocks crackled their way up Steve's spine and he spread his legs farther, rolling and twisting, trying to earn more contact. Tony slid his thumb in, pulling down to stretch Steve's hole then driving deep. He started to thrust, his other hand grabbing a handful of Steve's thigh and holding him open. Steve was desperate for touch on his cock but Tony ignored it, and somehow that was driving Steve even more wild. 

"Tony, please." The begging was a continuous stream falling out of his mouth now. "Please, please, please."

"Are you going to come for me, baby?" Tony asked. He followed the question with a hot, wet kiss pressed to the inside of Steve's thigh, almost close enough to tease, but not enough to push Steve over the edge. "You going to make a filthy mess of those perfect abs without a touch on your needy cock? Look how hard you are. Clenching down on my fingers like you think you're getting any more than this. Oh, gorgeous. So… gorgeous." Tony breathed out over Steve's balls, hot, wet air, and that was it.

"Oh my god," Steve cried out and he did just as Tony said, pulsing a seemingly endless stream of come over his stomach. 

"Stunning." Tony flopped over him with a groan and started sucking a hickey over his hip. 

Steve batted him away playfully. "Stop marking up the merchandise."

Tony nipped him then pulled away with a grin. "You're so fucking sexy."

Steve preened, dopey and sated and happy. "Tony…"

Tony drew a pattern over Steve's stomach that was too purposeful to be random. Then he looked up and took in the apartment for the first time. "It is a nice place," he said, and it didn't sound condescending, to Steve's surprise.

"Thanks."

"I'm glad you're settled."

"I'm - uh - so I'm working for someone now."

Tony's eyebrow shot up. "You are?"

"Yeah. He got me this place. I can be ordered online now," Steve said with a snort. "Like Amazon."

"Oh." Tony sat up and rubbed both hands through his hair, making it stick up wildly. "That's… is that good? Isn't it… dangerous?"

Steve shrugged. "Nah. It's good. It's like having a union. Sort of."

"Hmm." Tony frowned then he shook his head and smiled. "You know I could have kept you happily employed all on my own," he said, and it didn't sound like he was joking.

"I'm not going to rely on you, Tony. Obviously, I love getting to see you, but I can take care of myself."

"I know," Tony said quickly. "I know. I was just joking." He wrapped his arms around Steve's neck and rolled to straddle his lap. "Your new boss doesn't mind you keeping an old client?"

"Nope." Steve drew him into a kiss. "I'm still a free man. Just a man with an apartment and a new phone and a job."

Tony kissed him again, languid and indulgent and sloppy.

"Oh!" Steve broke away. "That's right. I have a new phone. You need my number. I won't carry the old one much anymore."

"Alright." Tony smiled down at him then pushed Steve's hair back with one hand. He rolled off the bed and picked up his phone which he tossed to Steve, then disappeared into the bathroom. Steve found his own contact in Tony's list and swapped the number for his new one, then dropped Tony's phone on top of his clothes and stretched up tall. Every muscle ached in the most wonderful way - like after a good workout. Which reminded him: he needed to get a gym membership.

Tony reappeared and started to get dressed, humming softly to himself. It was still early, and Steve thought about the night he'd spent in Tony's penthouse, watching TV and eating shrimp. He had an urge to recreate the evening, inviting Tony to stay. But he didn't have a TV, his mattress wasn't fancy enough for a man who could buy the building itself a hundred times over, and he'd been planning on eating bread and peanut butter from the corner store for dinner.

Tony frowned at his phone and yawned. "Ugh. Morning meetings should require forty-eight hours notice so I can psych myself up." He sighed. "I should really get going."

"Okay."

Tony hooked the back of Steve's neck and drew him in for a deep kiss. "I'm really glad you're safe. You know you can call me, right? For anything."

"I know." Steve fiddled with the hem of Tony's shirt. 

"Okay. Goodnight, Steve."

"Night, Tony."

Steve watched Tony slip out, closing the door behind him. He flopped backwards on the bed and folded his hands over his stomach. It rumbled. Tony sure knew how to burn calories. Bread and peanut butter from the corner store might not quite cut it.

Steve picked up his phone, meaning to google stores in the area to see where he might grab some groceries, but there was a notification for his text and his email. 

StarkWallet: You've received a payment of $1500.00. Pay directly with StarkWallet or connect a bank account to withdraw your funds.  

Wow. Tony had paid him the same again - was he really going to give Steve fifteen hundred bucks every single time they saw each other? It was a heady idea. Even with Fury's cut, Steve could support himself with just a few nights a month with Tony.

But that was a bad idea. He'd meant it when he said he didn't want to rely on Tony. Because if Tony got bored or pissed off or met someone real, Steve would be left high and dry with no clients. Even if he could set aside most of Tony's money as savings, he'd still end up having to build his business from the ground up when Tony left. No, it was better to diversify. He'd see Tony when he could, but he had to be working hard the rest of the time. And who knew? Maybe in a few months, he'd be able to afford a nice place on his own, without Fury's help.

But for now, he deserved a little treat.

Steve searched for pizza places near him then dialed the first number on the list. A woman picked up right away. "Fran's Pizza. What can I get ya?"

"Hi." Steve said. "Delivery please. I'd like a large pepperoni, garlic bread sticks, and a ginger ale. Oh - and do you take StarkWallet?"

Chapter Text

"Goodnight," Steve called, watching a shapely ass slip out of his apartment. "Thank you!" He rolled over and rummaged around for a pack of cigarettes and his phone. He pulled on sweatpants and a sweater, counted to seventy so he wouldn't awkwardly run into his client on the front step, then trotted down the stairs and out the door. He sat on the step he'd found Natasha on three months ago and lit a cigarette.

Sometimes he wondered what he'd say if he saw some sad boy, smelling of country air and stress, camped out on the front steps. He expressed his gratitude to Nat via weekly coffee dates where they dished on their clients, and shared a love of HGTV shows where rich people bought vacation homes. Steve said it was wishful thinking; Nat said it was masochism.

The last three months had been some of the best of Steve's life. He had money coming in on a steady basis, and even though he was making less on some of the clients, there were always clients, and the sense of security was invaluable. 

Plus, there was Tony.

Steve let himself see Tony about twice a month, and Tony had asked for only two other appointments in between, which Steve had granted. Those two nights Tony had been quieter, jaw set in a hard line, and shoulders low with an invisible weight. He'd been firm, commanding, and hard-edged, but he was never not gentle, never anything but kind, even when he dropped Steve to his knees and made him choke on his cock. 

They were meeting tomorrow, and it made Steve feel restless with his other clients. He couldn't even remember the name of the one who had just left, except that he had a nice ass and was lazy as fuck in bed. 

"Hey, you," came Clint's voice from behind him, and Steve blew out a cloud of smoke as he turned to greet him.

"Hey. How are you doing?"

"Just finished up with this lady that loves sucking my cock. She gets off on it. So I'm doing pretty good." Clint dropped to the step next to him. "Bum one?"

Steve handed him the pack and the lighter. "Congratulations."

"She's fun. How was your morning?"

"More on the other side of things, but I don't mind." Steve winked. "Not bad, though. I have a client I like booked for tomorrow."

Clint hummed. "Nice. I hope things don't change at all with the new guy. Fury's always been good to us."

"Yeah." Steve did a double take. "Wait, what? New guy?"

"You didn't hear?" Clint tossed the pack back in Steve's lap and sucked in on his cigarette. "Fury sold the business. He's moving back to D.C. but his old business partner from like fifteen years ago is going to take over this building for him. I think Fury has family in D.C. or something, but I dunno. He doesn't talk about himself much."

Steve blinked at him in shock. "Wow. I had no idea. Should we be worried?"

Clint shrugged. "Nah. I don't think so. Fury wouldn't hand it off to someone he didn't trust. He pretends not to, but he likes us too much for that."

Steve finished his cigarette, offered Clint another one, then snuffed out his butt and stood. He patted Clint on the shoulder as he made his way up the steps and inside. He went straight to Nat's room and knocked. She answered the door in a blood red and black laced corset and stockings. 

"Wow. Look at you."

"It's my one day a month I take fresh pictures. I spend the whole day in all the outfits, take a hundred, then I tell the guys I'm dressing up just for them and send off a few. Means I can wear sweatpants and powdered sugar the rest of the time."

Steve laughed. "Well, I won't interrupt. Just wanted to check and see if you knew about Fury leaving and handing the building off."

Nat's face clouded over. "I heard. Hand off is next week. We tried to convince him to let us throw a party, but you know what he's like. The new guy, Pierce, was his business partner like twenty years ago. He says he'll be good for the building."

"Here's hoping." Steve waved and wandered off down the hall, hearing Nat's door click shut behind him. It was Steve's day for getting errands done so he stuffed a few things in a bag and headed out again. His first stop was the bank where he'd been in the process of setting up an account for the first time in a long time. He hadn't had much in the way of documentation, but he'd been at Fury's - soon to be Pierce's he supposed - for long enough that they were willing to open one.

Once he'd signed the last paperwork and walked off with a debit card and a balance of two hundred dollars, he went to the grocery store and the dollar store for some basic supplies. Waiting in line to pay, he connected his StarkWallet to his bank account and transferred some more over. It felt good to look at the number on his phone, instead of having wads of dirty cash stashed all around his apartment. It felt grownup and somehow like progress. 

He still wasn't entirely sure what he was working towards, but for the first time since he'd made it to New York, he felt like he might be able to set new goals, make new plans, build towards something instead of just desperately scrambling for escape. 

His hope was put under pressure when Pierce moved in the following week, and Fury left. Pierce wasted no time getting settled in his new office, and he'd only been there for a day and a half when Steve got a text.

Please meet with me today at 2pm. - Alex Pierce

That afternoon, Steve went to his office and knocked then stepped inside at the quiet, "Come in." Pierce was standing at the window, instead of at his desk. He turned and offered his hand to Steve with a kind smile. "Rogers, right?"

"Yes, sir. Steve."

"Have a seat. I'm making a point of getting to know all of Nick's... workers. You're rather new, aren't you?" He sat in his chair and consulted a notebook.

"I think it's been about three and a half months, Mr. Pierce."

"And this is working out well for you?"

"Very well. Fury's been a wonderful employer."

Pierce chuckled. "Well. Not exactly an employer. You know that, right? None of this is legal."

Steve frowned. "Well, yes. We all know that. But Fury treated us like an employer."

"More like a friend, I think."

"Not really…" Steve mumbled.

"There are provisions in your agreement with Fury that I'm not going to be able to maintain."

"I'm sorry?"

"You have a client you're only paying out ten percent on."

"He was a client from before I joined Fury's team."

Pierce tapped his pen on the desk. "Well, to be frank, I don't give a shit."

Steve bristled at the sudden coolness in Pierce's tone.

"The support Fury's been providing you with give you the freedom to keep clients like that. And now I'm the one providing those supports and I'm looking at the bottom line. It's worth a lot more than ten percent, especially when you're charging for the whole night."

A cold flush rushed down Steve's spine. Did Pierce know?

Steve's expression must have changed because Pierce frowned. "That's what you charge him, right? Your nightly rate. Three hundred dollars."

"Yes, sir…"

"Well, alright then. No more special clients. He's on the list with everyone else whether you book him through the app or not. I'm upping the cut of your pay to fifty percent to pay off the amount you should have been paying all along. I'll let you know when you've done it."

"Mr. Pierce… I signed a contract with Fury, and -"

Pierce laughed unpleasantly. "A contract isn't shit here, Steve. What are you going to do? Go to a lawyer? You break the law every night. You have two choices: leave or pay me. And I caution you against leaving while you still owe me money…" He trailed off in a threatening way.

Steve's first instinct was to lash out, snap back, but cold dread settled over him as he realized just how much control Pierce had over him. If he knew about Tony, he knew about Steve's StarkWallet account, maybe was even tracking his phone, reading his messages. Fury had given it to him, maybe he'd had that power all along and he'd given it to Pierce who was making use of it.

Without Pierce, Steve had no money, no phone plan, no apartment, and no job. He'd be blacklisted in the whole city, and hunted down anywhere he went. For now, he had no choice. "Yes, sir."

"Good boy. I'm glad we had this talk. You're dismissed."

"Thank you." Steve pushed out of his chair and flew out the door. Back in his room, he struggled to keep his breathing under control, but panic was winding up his spine to wrap around his neck. This was what he'd been most afraid of, being owned, being controlled. He'd trusted Fury, but if he'd known he was just going to be passed off, he never would have. He certainly never would have signed anything with Pierce, not that the contract mattered, as Pierce had so rudely reminded him. But with Fury it had felt like an agreement with him, whether it held legal water or not, it had added at least a little bit of a sense of security. 

He sat down hard on his bed. He just wanted to get away from it all. He dug his phone out.

Steve: Lonely?

It was only ten minutes before the reply came.

Tony: 7:30

Steve pulled Tony's favourite shirt out of the closet and stripped down to step in the shower.

Two and a half hours later, Steve found himself sprawled out on Tony's couch with the shirt being slowly unbuttoned. "You're like a present, just for me to open," Tony murmured. "Fucking gorgeous." He bent and kissed then bit at Steve's chest.

"Tony…" Steve whined, squirming under him. He was so hard he could barely think straight. Tony had been teasing him for twenty minutes straight and they weren't even naked yet. 

Tony latched his mouth over Steve's nipple and sucked hard. He dug his teeth in while his other hand snaked up to squeeze Steve's chest on the other side. "Such a pretty whore. You're so filthy but you clean up so pretty for me."

"All for you, Tony," Steve whimpered. "Please?"

"What's that? Are you begging for me already, pretty?"

Steve squirmed, rubbing his hard cock against Tony's thigh. "Yes. Please."

Tony bit down again, sucking Steve's nipple into his mouth. "I want to ruin every inch of you."

"Fuck, Tony, I can't hold off that long."

Tony's eyes flashed. "Can't?"

"I -" Steve bit his lip, turning pleading puppy-dog eyes on Tony. "Please?"

"Oh, no, it's too late for that." Tony licked a stripe up the centre of Steve's chest. "You can do whatever I ask you to. You can do it, because you have no other choice."

Steve let his head fall back, eyes closing. A moan slipped from between his lips. Tony worked his way down, not letting the warm softness of his stomach brush against Steve's cock, much to Steve's dismay. Tony's hand kept teasing Steve's chest, squeezing, fingers rolling his nipple, tugging and pinching. He sucked a dark bruise just below Steve's navel, so close and yet so far from where he wanted his mouth to land. 

Tony gripped below Steve's knees and pushed his legs up bent. His eyes were bright and intense as they raked over Steve's body, and Steve couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so exposed, so seen. "Tony," he breathed, and Tony's eyes snapped up to his, burning.

"You fall apart so prettily," Tony murmured. 

Tony's soft, sweet voice was so alluring, like a siren's call, and for the first time, Steve forced away the necessary guards that kept him on edge during client visits, that kept him safe. He let go of the money, the job, his home, his life, his fears. His grip was so weakened by the trust he'd inadvertently placed in Tony over the past several moments, that it was so easy to just let go and slide under. Nothing mattered except pleasure, except touch. Except Tony. 

"Sweetheart? You with me?"

"I feel so good," Steve muttered, tongue heavy. "Please?"

"You want me to take care of you?" Tony breathed. 

Steve nodded, eyes still closed. Tony's hand was soft as it skated up his inner thigh. "I want to be good for you." Steve fluttered his eyes open in time to see Tony lick his lips hungrily.

"Can I tie you up?"

Steve smiled dopily. God, he wanted that.

"I need affirmative consent, my dear. I've never seen you quite like this before."

"Yes, please. Green. Yes. I love it." Steve offered his wrists. "I'll be good."

"No doubt." Tony kissed him hard then stood, leaving Steve immediately frustrated at the loss of his presence. "Come here." Tony guided Steve up to his feet then bent him over the edge of the mattress, feet on the ground, forehead on the soft duvet, ass in the air. "Look at you…"

Tony's hands pet over Steve's ass, squeezing the cheeks and pulling them apart. He disappeared again and Steve whined, twisting his neck to watch Tony as he moved to the closet. When Tony returned this time, he had the silk belt from his bathrobe. He took Steve's hands one by one and drew them back, behind his thighs. He wound the belt around and around Steve's wrists, binding them together tightly enough that he didn't need to hold them still but not so tightly that Steve wouldn't be able to extricate himself if need be.

Steve lay there, mouth open and panting, chest pressed into the sheets, hands locked behind him. He imagined what he must look like to Tony. The pressure of his bound hands would push his ass up, his cock trapped behind them. Tony's hands pressed into the meat of his ass, squeezing and pulling. One hand disappeared and was followed by a wet pop. When it returned, it was slick with Tony's spit and he drew it down the cleft of Steve's ass, pressing it over his hole which twitched in response. 

"Oh, god," Steve breathed.

"How are you doing, gorgeous?" Tony asked.

"Fan-tastic," Steve managed between gasps. His body was begging for Tony's, aching for more than a teasing touch. He wanted to feel Tony press inside him - a little too hard, a little too fast, but just right. "Fuck me, please?"

Tony groaned. "You are something else." He let his thumb slip inside, lightly petting Steve's rim and making his body twitch and clench. "You make me want to destroy you."

"Fuck."

Tony rustled around for a moment then the blunt pressure of his cock asked for entrance. Steve tried to spread his legs a little further, but his tied wrists wouldn't let him and he squirmed in place. Tony pushed inside slowly but steadily, not hurting, but not giving Steve time to adjust either. Tony groaned softly, and once again, Steve couldn't help but imagine what his view was like, watching his cock slowly be swallowed by Steve's greedy hole.

Tony bottomed out and stayed there. His hands slid up Steve's back, fiddled with the short hairs at the nape of Steve's neck which sent shivers down his spine, then drifted down and around his sides. He took hold of each of Steve's forearms, firmly, then drew back until his cock almost slipped free. When he pushed in again, he used his hold on Steve's arms to drag him in hard and fast.

"Oh, fuck!" Steve exclaimed, pleasure lighting him up everywhere. His cock twitched uselessly where it was trapped behind his hands. He wriggled his fingers, trying to touch, but he couldn't. 

"You're so good for me, baby," Tony murmured, and Steve immediately went limp, pleasure of a different, easier kind flushing through him. 

"Yeah," he mumbled into the sheets, now wet with his drool. "So good."

"You feel good, gorgeous?"

Steve nodded.

"I'm going to take you apart. You ready?"

Steve nodded again.

Tony started to set a punishing pace, ramming into Steve over and over, using his firm grip to make sure every thrust was hard and deep. Steve was powerless to do anything but gasp and moan and take it. His brain had given up entirely on higher thought, nothing but a fuzzy yes, yes, yes pounding through him. He felt far from orgasm but orgasm also no longer felt like the ultimate goal. All he wanted was to be the tool through which Tony milked his own pleasure. He wanted to be used. Any semblance of control evaporated and he left everything to Tony, nothing more than a gasping, sobbing sex toy.

"God, baby, you are so hot and tight, fuck." Tony planted a hand on Steve's back, pressing him down deeper, arching his ass higher, then grabbed his arm again. 

Steve's knees were weak, but the tight bind on his arms kept him upright, a firm resistance for Tony to fuck against. Another hard press shifted Steve forward a little, his cock rubbing against the edge of the mattress with every thrust. It wasn't quite the right angle, but that only wound him up further, knowing that he had no control over what kind of touch he received. His pleasure was incidental and accidental and that was a thousand times better than intentional. 

Steve was pretty sure he was begging, maybe crying, but he didn't even know what for. Tony kept using and taking him, mumbling his gasping prayers to himself instead of to Steve. An orgasm t-boned Steve, slamming into him unexpectedly and he cried out, knees giving out until his hands were taking all his weight as his aching cock sprayed untouched, making a mess of the sheets under him.

Tony grabbed Steve around the waist and gently hauled him back up to his feet. His knees wobbled but held, easing the pressure on his wrists. Tony's hands went there briefly, touching his fingers and prodding the belt, but Steve whimpered out, "Don't," and his hands stilled.

"You okay? Steve?"

"Don't untie me?" Steve begged. "Please?"

Tony chuckled softly. "Okay, okay. I was just checking on you. I decide when they come off, though - okay?"

"Yes, sorry. I'll be good."

"You're so good."

The praise tingled its way under Steve's skin, zapping from place to place - everywhere Tony was touching him. Then Tony's teeth fell to the back of his neck and Steve arched up sharply. 

"Okay, up on the bed," Tony said, smacking Steve's ass. 

Steve could barely move, but Tony helped him get his knees up on the edge of the mattress and then shuffle forward until he was safely in the middle of the bed, trussed up like a turkey, knees tucked under him, forehead still down, ass in the air with his hands bound behind his thighs. Tony wasted no time pressing into him again, setting the same punishing rhythm as before. 

It hurt now, Steve's body overwhelmed and overstimulated, summoning another erection even as it cried for relief. He whimpered and drooled, reveling in the perfect mix of pleasure and pain. With a jolt, Steve realized just how much trust he placed in Tony, letting him push him to that edge, take all the control so completely. Steve let go easily, sinking even deeper under, even as the background knowledge that this was an unprecedented amount of trust to place in a client sizzled through him.  

Time started to fuzz and Steve wondered idly if he was checking in and out, but everything snapped into sharp relief as Tony started to groan with every thrust, his hands scrambling for a better purchase, fingernails digging in. He slammed into Steve over and over then finally fell on top of him, open mouth pressed to the back of Steve's neck as he twitched and gasped through his orgasm. His weight stole Steve's breath while making him feel covered and protected, and he let the air be pressed out his lungs as Tony throbbed deep inside him.

Tony eased back slowly, then slid out of Steve, leaving him bereft. He whimpered, and Tony landed a hand on his hip. He pushed and Steve tipped over onto his side, still twisted into a knot. Tony's fingers found his wrists again, testing the tightness gently, even as his own chest heaved, desperately trying to find equilibrium again.

"You okay?" Tony whispered roughly.

Steve nodded but he squirmed too. His cock was painfully full and he wasn't sure if he would die if he came again or die if he didn't. 

"God, look at you," Tony breathed. He fell forward and buried his face between Steve's legs, sucking his cock down. 

"Oh, fuck." Steve's hips started thrusting forward desperately. It was entirely overwhelming - the heat and pressure of Tony's throat around him, the sharp pull of the silk tie around his wrists, the ache in his thighs from holding an awkward position for so long. He jerked wildly, seeking freedom from the pounding sensation all around him and wanting to drown in it at the same time. 

Tony kept sucking and swallowing, letting his drool drip onto the sheets, making as much of a mess as Steve had earlier. He bobbed his head as one hand skated up the back of Steve's thigh, over his bound wrists, to his ass. One squeeze reminded Steve of how deep Tony had just been pounding into him and he came again, stuttering his way down Tony's throat.

"Oh… god." Steve let out a breath that felt like it ought to be his last and Tony slipped away. Distantly, he realized Tony was untying the belt, maneuvering Steve into a position that didn't put too much pressure on his joints. A heavy blanket was wrapped around him, followed by Tony's arms, and Steve just drifted. 

He must have fallen asleep, because Steve's mouth was fuzzy and his body was stiff when he next blinked his eyes open. He was cushioned on Tony's chest, pressed tightly down his entire body. Tony was half sitting up with a pillow behind his back, a tablet in his hand and glasses on. "Sorry," Steve muttered on reflex, forgetting that sleeping at Tony's was a completely normal thing for him to do.

Tony ignored the apology. He set the tablet down and ran his fingers through Steve's hair. "You okay sweetheart?" he asked. "That was pretty intense."

"That was amazing." Steve took a deep breath in and let it out.

"You were pretty spaced out. I've never seen you like that."

"I don't usually let myself go like that," Steve said, then immediately regretted it. Usually, making a client feel special was a good thing, made them come back for more, but Tony was already too special, too unusual, and showing how much would only sink Steve deeper into whatever this was. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It was gorgeous. I feel like I'm twenty-two again. I might need to run around the block just to burn off all the extra energy you've given me."

Steve laughed. "What time is it?"

"About five in the morning."

"Shit."

"You can go back to sleep if you want."

Steve stretched, feeling his joints pop, groaning at the echoes of last night. "Not sure I could. I feel very awake now."

Tony chuckled. He kept petting Steve's hair for a while. "Smoothie?"

"Oh, god. Yes, please."

Tony kissed the top of Steve's head then slid out of bed and stretched too, Steve enjoying the view immensely. He turned around and considered Steve carefully. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked gently. "I know a headspace like that can leave you a bit…"

Steve smiled reassuringly. "I'm really fine." He sat up on his knees and shuffled across the bed to draw Tony into his arms. "That was amazing. Thank you."

Tony grinned. He kissed Steve then headed off towards the kitchen. Steve followed him, pulling on his clothes as he went. He draped himself over the island counter while Tony pulled fruit, vegetables, and yogurt out of the fridge. Watching Tony putter with the blender cart, Steve was struck with an idea. It wouldn't solve all his problems, but it would start to give him a way out of them. "Hey, Tony…?"

Tony stuck his head in the fridge. "Hmm?"

"I hate to be difficult but…"

Tony reappeared, frowning. "What do you need?"

"I had some trouble with my phone and my StarkWallet account got locked. I called and talked to them but it takes two weeks for them to process the request and I have to pay rent next week. I hate to ask, but do you mind paying me in cash today? I certainly don't expect you to be as generous as you usually are with your tips. I'm sure you don't keep that much on hand, but just my regular fee. Only if you have it of course..." Steve trailed off awkwardly, cheeks burning. He'd gotten so used to not having to talk money with anyone. If he'd ever had any confidence with it, it was gone now.

"Of course. No problem." Tony turned the blender on then walked off down the hall, Steve got up and followed him, politely staying on the other side of the office door when Tony slipped inside. He'd learned a long time ago that it was best not to know where valuables were kept if you didn't want any disappearances blamed on the hooker. "You should really get a proper bank account," Tony went on. "Then I could write you a cheque." He came back out with an envelope that he tucked in Steve's hands. It was thick and heavy.

"I know." Steve smiled. "Thank you. Someday, I'll figure out how to be an adult. Maybe."

Tony laughed and drew Steve in for a kiss. "Please don't. Then I won't have anyone to play with." He squeezed Steve's ass once then patted it. He returned to the kitchen and poured the smoothie into two to-go cups. "I should really head into the office. Stay and enjoy breakfast, though. Take a shower. Watch TV."

"Thank you, but I'd better go, too."

"Alright. See you next week?"

"I'm booked pretty solid but if I have an opening, I'll let you know," Steve teased.

"Is that so? Soon you'll be advising me to book through your secretary."

Steve laughed and made his way to the door. "Have a good day, Tony!" he called.

"Bye, Macbeth!"

Steve kept the envelope in his pocket until he reached the apartment building. He got his mail, sucking on the straw in his smoothie, and added the envelope to the stack. He couldn't help peering inside to find fifteen hundreds tucked inside. Bless Tony. Of course he had. Knowing Tony, he'd probably still send the same amount to the StarkWallet too, once Steve told him it was fixed.

Back in his apartment, Steve hid the money in the empty peanut butter jar in the pantry, took a shower, and settled on his bed with the TV on low and his phone in his hand. He carefully went through his contacts, changing the names to more generic ones and deleting a few numbers he knew he'd never forget. He transferred three hundred dollars from his StarkWallet balance to his bank account and logged the night with Tony in the app. He saw the cut from his payout drop dramatically.

He'd have to think of a better way to manage this because Tony would start to get worried if Steve asked for cash again. Pierce had to have access to Steve's bank account, but he might not know about the StarkWallet. If Steve was careful about how much he transferred, it might not come up. That being said, of course, his bank statements showed deposits from StarkWallet, so if Pierce was watching that closely, he could figure it out. Steve was also pretty sure Pierce didn't know who Steve's client was, but if he figured that out...

Maybe if he disconnected the StarkWallet from the bank account, Pierce wouldn't be able to trace it. Or delete the account and start a new one. There had to be some way. If he asked Tony, he'd press to know why, but Steve was sure he could figure it out on his own. 

Steve kept his head down through the next week. He didn't refuse a single booking on the app, was kind and attentive and sexy with all his clients, and told Tony he was too overbooked to meet when he got a text that Wednesday night. But Friday afternoon, he was feeling better about it all. If he gave Pierce three hundred dollars every time he saw Tony, he'd have to pay him off pretty quickly. Pierce claimed he owed forty percent on every night Steve had spent with Tony since he'd moved into Fury's. It couldn't be more than fifteen hundred dollars. Steve had well more than that in his StarkWallet, but if he tried to give it all to Pierce, he'd want to know where it came from, how he has so much. 

If he kept going on as he was, then -

Steve's doorknob rattled and as he was standing up to see who it was, it swung open. Rumlow and Rollins were standing shoulder to shoulder in the doorway, looking grim. "Is everything okay?" Steve asked.

"Not really." Rumlow led the way in, and Rollins closed the door behind him. Steve took an involuntary step back. "Boss says you've been stealing."

Steve frowned. "I haven't  -"

"Shut up," Rollins said, stepping closer. "I don't think you get it. Stealing isn't tolerated."

"I'm not stealing." Steve squared his chest, tightening his hands into fists. "Pierce changed my agreement, but I'm still paying him back. I'm doing what he wanted."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"Sit down."

Steve stayed where he was. 

Rumlow took a step closer. "I said sit down."

"I thought you were here to protect us." 

Rollins crossed his arms. "We're here to protect the building. If you're fucking the boss over, you're fucking everyone over. There's a system here."

"Where's the money?" Rumlow demanded.

"I don't have any money except what's in my account and the savings I had when I got here," Steve insisted.

"Bullshit."

Rollins started knocking things off Steve's shelves, opening books and rifling through his drawers. "Hey!" Steve jerked up off the bed, but Rumlow clocked him in the face. Pain rocketed up through his nose and behind his eye. "Fuck!" He clutched his face, stumbling back onto his bed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Found it." Rollins had Steve's empty peanut butter jar open in his hand. 

"That's mine from before I started working here," Steve insisted, his stomach twisting with dread. 

"Fuck off." Rumlow gave him a disbelieving look. "God, Fury was such a pushover."

Rollins started to walk towards the door, holding the jar.

"That's mine." Steve pushed to his feet again, and both Rollins and Rumlow shifted towards him, hands balling into fists, jaws setting.

"Sit down."

"Give it back. That's my money."

"You're a fucking slut," Rumlow spat. "Nothing is yours. Pierce owns your ass and it's our job to make sure your ass doesn't step out of line. This -" He pointed at the money Rollins was holding "- is stepping out of line. We won't be so nice next time."

"You call this nice? Dirty, goddam thief." Steve charged at Rollins and Rumlow slammed into him, knocking him to ground. Rollins kicked him in the gut, making Steve curl up, and Rumlow smacked him across the face again.

Rage surged hot in Steve's gut, but he stayed on the ground, recognizing that he couldn't take the two of them on his own. He was probably already black and blue, but if they did much more damage it was going to be hard to work. He sat there, seething, as his savings walked out the door.

He cursed violently, tears stinging the backs of his eyes. He sat there for a moment, breathing through the pain in his stomach, then pushed up to his feet. He pointedly avoided looking in the mirror and tipped down on his bed with a groan. He found his phone under his pillow and cancelled his one booking that night. Let Pierce accuse him of taking an unneeded sick day. It was his goons who were responsible.

A knock on the door had Steve startling up out of the doze he must have slipped into. He checked his phone in a panic, but there were no messages from the app warning of a missed client booking. "Yes?" he asked, breathing deeply to keep the waver out of his voice. 

"Steve?" It was Nat. "You okay?"

Steve sighed and got up to open the door. No point in turning Nat away - she'd hear about it anyway. He pulled the door open, and Nat took one look at him and shook her head sadly. 

"Oh, fuck. Steve."

Steve stepped back to let her in and she went straight into his bathroom. He sat on his bed. "Pierce found out about how much Tony pays me and decided he wouldn't be honouring my agreement with Fury after all."

Nat reappeared with a wad of damp paper towels. She hooked a finger under Steve's chin and tipped it up then started to dab around his eye. "Got you pretty good. Rumlow?"

"Yeah. The stomach was Rollins."

"Assholes."

Steve dropped his voice lower. "They're watching everything, Nat. They knew I had cash hidden in my apartment. I'm sure Pierce had Brock break in here and look around last week. I don't know what to do."

Nat hummed uncertainly as she peeled a butterfly suture off the strip. "We could try contacting Fury…"

"What if he knows? What if gave this outfit to Pierce knowing what he would do?"

She sighed. "I don't know. Maybe we should cut and run."

"I want to," Steve murmured. 

Nat met his eye. "You'd have to leave town. If you stayed in the city, he'd find you."

But he'd only just got here. Steve didn't want to leave. He'd worked so fucking hard to get here, and he wasn't going to let some asshole he'd never even agreed to work for take that away from him. He also couldn't bear the thought of leaving the rest of the building behind to face Pierce alone. "I don't know," he muttered. "I don't know."

Nat finished sticking Steve's eyebrow back together. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "You'll pass. Stick with clients who are into a bad boy, maybe."

Steve barked out a rough laugh. "Thank you."

"Don't worry, Steve. Just… just pay Pierce for now and we'll figure something out, okay?"

"Okay thanks." He stood and drew Nat into a hug before letting her go. He made tea for himself then checked his phone to see if he had any bookings. He didn't, but he did have a text.

Tony: Come over.

Steve stared at the message with a twisted ball of anxiety in his stomach. He went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Nat had made him look better, surely, but there was no way even makeup would hide the fact that Steve had a black eye.

He didn't want Tony to see him like this, not because he was worried about looking bad or upsetting Tony, but because he was afraid Tony would see him being injured as a failure, and failing in front of Tony ached deep in his chest. He wanted to succeed. He wanted Tony to see him succeeding. He didn't want to be the brokedown prostitute that Tony saved with his money. He could do this on his own.

Steve: One hour.

He couldn't help it. Because as much as Tony wanted him to come over, he wanted to go. He could come up with an excuse. His memory rolled back to when he first met Clint, the gash on his cheek. He'd tripped. Maybe Steve tripped.

Tony sent back four winking emojis and Steve shook his head with a smile. He got ready in a rush and was on the subway in twenty minutes. Half an hour later, he stood inside Tony's elevator, leaned back against the far wall. The doors slid open, but no one was there to meet him, so Steve let himself into the apartment he now knew well. He threw his jacket over the back of a chair, grabbed a bottle of wine from the wine fridge and two glasses and went to check Tony's private office. It was empty, so he trotted down the steps to the workshop instead.

Tony was inside, music on, messy and grease-covered in sweat pants and a tank top. He was somehow even sexier like this than in a perfectly pressed, thousand dollar suit. Steve leaned against the doorway and waited, unable to suppress his fond smile, for Tony to notice he was there.

It took almost five minutes, but Tony looked up and did a double take when he saw Steve there. "Hey!" He waved and the music shut off. "Macbeth. What are you doing just creeping in the hallway?"

Steve grinned and sauntered over to him. "Waiting for you to notice me. Feeling kind of ignored here." He fake pouted.

Tony laughed and hooked his arm around Steve's waist. "Well, that's -" Tony's brow suddenly furrowed. He grabbed Steve's shoulder and twisted him into the light. "What the fuck…?"

In the fun of watching Tony work and the teasing, Steve had forgotten about the black eye. He tried to shift back into the shadows. "It's nothing."

"What happened?" Tony growled.

"It's fine."

"Steve…"

Faced with it, he couldn't lie. "I got in a disagreement with someone else at the apartments, okay? It's not a big deal. Looks worse than it is."

Tony ran the pad of his thumb gently over Steve's cheek. He was still scowling. "Does it hurt?"

"Nope." Steve bent forward and kissed Tony. "Come upstairs?" He held up the wine. 

"Okay." Tony took the wine bottle and replaced it with his own hand in Steve's. He led him up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. He sat Steve on the bed and popped the cork. He handed Steve a glass then disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, the water started running. Steve sipped his wine, smiling softly to himself. When Tony reappeared in the doorway, he was naked, drinking from his own glass. 

"Come have a bath with me," Tony said.

Steve followed him into the bathroom. Tony helped him peel out of his clothes, scowling at the bruising on Steve's chest and stomach but saying nothing. Tony slid into the full tub first, then Steve dropped in between his legs, leaning back against his chest. The hot water was heaven, and tightness that had been racketing through Steve's body finally started to loosen.

Tony pressed a kiss to the side of his face. "How was your week?"

"It was fine." Steve couldn't bring himself to tell Tony about Pierce. "Busy, I guess."

"I can see that." Tony petted around the black eye again. "What was the disagreement about?"

Steve shrugged. "Do you really want to hear about that kind of thing?"

Tony stiffened under him. "I don't know what you mean by that."

"You don't want to hear about stupid hooker shit. I'm not like that when I'm here."

Tony was quiet for a long time, the only sound, the gentle splashing of the bath water. "I get it if you want to leave stuff behind when you're with me," he said carefully. "And I'm happy to be a place where you don't have to worry about the hard things in your life. But I've never asked you to be anything but yourself when you're here with me. I don't think you're sordid. I've never cringed away from 'stupid hooker shit.'" He cleared his throat. "I've never pretended you're something you're not. And it'd kind of break my heart if it turned out you were pretending to enjoy your time here with me. I get it's your job. But I sort of thought maybe you didn't mind when I booked you."

Steve twisted around so he could face Tony. "Tony…" It hasn't been about the money since you first put me on my knees, he wanted to say, but he couldn't. "Of course I enjoy my time with you. I know you know what this is. That isn't what I meant. I love spending time with you. I'm just not proud of everything in my life. I know it wouldn't bother you to hear about the shadier parts of my life, but it would bother me to talk about them. You're like a little escape from everything. I want to keep it that way."

Tony cupped his face with warm, bubble-covered hands. "You're my escape too." He frowned. "Just promise me you're okay."

"I'm okay."

"Cause if you need help, I can -"

"I know." Steve smiled. He covered Tony's hand with his own. "I'm okay, Tony."

"Alright then. Come here." Tony drew Steve in so he was tucked up against his chest, head leaning back on his shoulder. 

"Tell me about your week," Steve said, letting his eyes close.

Tony started talking about meetings and interoffice drama, and Steve let his eyes get heavy, Tony taking all of his weight. Tony's tub had some kind of heater magic and it never got any cooler than perfect which made it all too easy to just float endlessly.

"You awake?" Tony whispered softly and Steve startled back to full consciousness.

"I'm awake. Sorry." He sat up and sucked in a breath that was more oxygen than steam for the first time in what suddenly felt like a long time. "God, we must be pruning. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Come on." Tony climbed out of the tub and Steve followed. He downed the rest of both of their wine glasses and slung a towel around his hips. Steve dried off then joined him in the bedroom. A haze of exhaustion still dulling his thoughts and slowing his movements. When Tony reached for his face, Steve sunk to his knees on the plush rug and rolled his eyes up to Tony's submissively. 

Tony looked at him for a long time then ran his thumb along the edge of Steve's lip. "Not what I want tonight," he said softly. "Come here. Come to bed."

Steve let Tony pull him over the bed and ease him down on his back. He fussed with the covers for a moment, waved his hand to make the lights click off, then climbed in beside Steve. He ran his fingers through Steve's hair, making his eyes drift closed again then kissed him gently. Steve parted his lips and let Tony's tongue slide inside, going limp on the sheets, ready to become anything Tony wanted him to be.

But Tony pulled back once Steve had been thoroughly kissed. He pressed his lips once more to Steve's cheek, just below the bruise that surrounded his eye, then whispered, "Go to sleep, Steve."

"What? Don't you want…?"

"Not tonight." Tony gathered Steve in his arms and snuggled down so they were chest to chest, Tony's arms caging Steve's head protectively against his neck. 

"I'm not that tired." Steve ground forward against Tony, letting their naked skin slide together. "I'm okay. Just tell me what you want."

"I want you to sleep," Tony said firmly. 

Steve wriggled backwards and frowned down at Tony. "You didn't bring me here to sleep. Don't treat me like glass, Tony."

Tony's mouth thinned into a hard line. "I can't fuck you with bruises on your face, Steve," he said firmly. His voice dropped low. "You know I like it rough and I like it bossy, and if you look freshly hurt to me, like this, like someone hurt you, my brain tells me I've gone too far." Steve opened his mouth to apologize, horrified, but Tony barrelled on, "It's not about you, it's about me. There are things you don't know about me, about my life. We all have our hang ups, Steve, and this is one of mine."

Steve squirmed uncomfortably on the sheets. "I wish I'd known. I would have told you not to have me over tonight."

Tony frowned. "Just because I'm not comfortable having sex tonight doesn't mean I regret inviting you over. I still would have wanted you to come."

Steve's stomach churned at that, but he wasn't sure exactly why. He knew Tony liked his company - heck half the people who came to him for sex were really looking for a form of companionship, at the end of the day - and from the first night they'd spent together, they'd proven they were as good at being friends as they were between the sheets. But he was a prostitute, and as soon as Tony invited in the idea of paying him just to be there, instead of to be fucked, it felt like opening a can of worms he didn't want to look into. 

Maybe it was too appealing…

He'd always known that if he pushed, he could have so much more from Tony. He could be living in the lap of luxury, Tony's kept pet, eat his food, suck his cock, and never think about bills again. Or at least, not until Tony turned him out a year later with nothing but a 'thanks for the good times' and a wad of cash in his pocket. How was Steve supposed to go back to fighting for himself after being softened by Tony's sweet hands? How could he make the decisions needed to keep him alive after getting used to Tony deciding everything for him?  

It was like the warm, sweet-smelling bathwater. Too easy to slide under and lose track of time, of himself. Tony was an indulgence that he really should have stopped after the first time, never found him in the city, never gone back. Maybe it was already too late to prevent a total trainwreck whenever Tony decided to stop texting him, but at the very least, Steve had to wear his seatbelt on the way down. Protect himself in whatever tiny ways he could.

"You just want to sleep?" Steve asked, finding he was powerless to argue the point any further. "Cause I could just go."

"Don't be stupid." Tony pulled Steve into his hold again. "Never want you to go," he muttered, sounding halfway to dreamland already.

Steve closed his eyes and snuggled into Tony's chest, breathing in their shared scent of fruity bubble bath and warm skin. Everything else would be tomorrow's problem. Tonight, he could sleep.

**

Steve woke up slowly, sensing Tony's presence beside him then letting himself drift off again multiple times, before he finally yawned and rolled over. He'd set his start time on the app to after five, so he had the whole day free, even if he had been booked, and Tony would have told him if needed to go first thing.

"Don't have to work?" Steve asked around his still-sleeping tongue.

Tony kissed his forehead. "I have evening meetings so I took the morning off."

Me too, Steve almost replied, but after their conversation last night, he was feeling a little awkward about bringing attention back to his occupation. "That's nice."

"Want to stay for a bit?"

Steve nodded. "If you want me."

"Always." Tony ran his hand down Steve's side, pushing the covers back to admire his nudity. Steve preened under the attention, rolling on his back and folding up one leg to make his hip twist up more prominently, showing off his morning erection. Tony stroked back up his chest then frowned at his face. 

"I'll put on makeup next time," Steve said, suddenly feeling petulant.

Tony all but glared. "There's going to be a next time?"

Steve swallowed. "Um. No?"

"You know, the fact that you drew me in so easily that first night should have warned me that you're a trouble magnet," Tony huffed, and Steve laughed. 

"What if I make you breakfast?" Steve purred, rolling himself between Tony's legs and kissing his way up his chest. 

Tony petted his hair back. "Bring an ice pack for this when you do." He tapped next to Steve's eye.

Steve rolled his eyes affectionately then rolled himself out of bed. He took Tony's robe off the back of the door and put it on, making a show of it, knowing Tony's eyes were on him. He also knew how much Tony liked it when he wore his clothes. 

In the kitchen, Steve put bagels in the toaster and got out coffee, peanut butter, and cream cheese. It was looking like a nice day out the windows, but the penthouse scraped the sky so high that for all Steve knew they were on top of the weather. He stacked plates and coffee mugs in his arms, not wanting to bother rummaging around for a tray. 

Tony had set his tablet aside by the time Steve returned, and he was waiting for him, propped up against the pillows, bright eyes fixed on the doorway. He raised an eyebrow when Steve started laying everything out on the bedside table. 

"Two trips," Steve said haughtily, then he ran back out and grabbed a tea towel and an ice pack. He let Tony spread cream cheese on his bagel while he pressed the ice pack to his eye - swollen again. "It'll be fine by tomorrow."

"Sorry I've been so grumpy about it." Tony patted Steve's thigh. "Don't like seeing you all marked up."

"You think this is bad? You should have seen me after I fell out of Bucky's aunt's tree when I was ten."

Tony laughed. "I can see that."

"I was tiny back then, too. Had a lot to prove. I swore I could climb higher than him. Broke my arm and sprained my knee."

Tony sipped his coffee and listened while Steve told stories of his rather wild childhood, eating the rest of Tony's bagel when he pushed it in his direction. The morning wandered away and it was past noon when Tony finally pulled them both out of bed. Steve got dressed and let Tony walk him to the door. 

"Sorry it wasn't worth your while," Steve said, leaning back against the wall so Tony would fold over him and cage him in. 

"You're always worth my while. Even if I don't choose to touch, the eye candy is unparalleled. Not to mention the delightful conversation."

"Charmer."

Tony kissed Steve until he was struggling to draw breath before letting him go. On the way down, Steve leaned back against the wall of the elevator and closed his eyes, the ghost of Tony's lips still on his.

Back home, Steve was relieved to find he had no bookings for the night. He cleaned his apartment and iced his eye again with a bag of corn. When his phone chimed with the notice he'd had a deposit in his StarkWallet, his stomach flip-flopped. Pierce would know; Steve had no choice. He swiped open the app and set up a transfer of the entire balance from his StarkWallet to the bank account Pierce now had complete control of. 

He felt sick after, the comfort and safety of the soft morning with Tony utterly soured by Pierce's control over it. He would rather Tony pay him nothing for their nights together than turn over so much to his new boss, but there was no way Tony would agree to stop paying him without knowing why. And if he knew why, he'd try to fix it. 

No, Steve's only choices were to drop Tony as a client, or see him for free, hoping that the money he earned would keep Pierce happy and off his back. And as long as Tony didn't know he wasn't getting paid, it wouldn't complicate their relationship. Steve was still working for him, still earning his keep with his body. He wasn't Tony's…

Well, that way didn't lie a pleasant train of thought. Steve tucked his phone under his pillow and curled up on the bed. His cheek throbbed and his back was sore and everything sucked, so he let his eyes drift closed and he remembered the feeling of being in Tony's bathtub, warm and gentle, Tony's arms around him, lips pressed to his forehead. Steve closed his eyes and let himself dream.