Archive of Our Own ^beta

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There was a briefcase Tony held sometimes. He used it when they assembled, or when he had a particularly precarious board meeting to attend. It contained the suit, iron man red, sleek as much as sturdy.

But all Steve saw was the thin metal chain; twisted steel from the handlebar to Tony’s wrist. His tan skin was a stark contrast against the cuffs and Steve imagined his own wrist there, pressed between metal and Tony Stark’s suit. His cock shifted in his uniform and he had to get his thoughts under control or else his situation would soon be obvious.

He couldn’t stop staring at the chain, and so many thoughts flooded his mind. Tony holding the handle of the briefcase, pulling Steve along at his leisure. Bound. As long as Tony held the briefcase, he’d have Steve near. Wanted.

Once before he had felt this urge, when Bucky had retold his Hydra ordeal to the Howling Commandos. Straps had held him down to the table, unable to move. And Steve imagined himself captive, held in that that position on the table. Helpless. He pictured Bucky leaning over him, tightening the straps. Blood had thrummed through his body then, just as it did now.

Once he had felt this urge, and then it lay forgotten under the War and ice.  

Tony caught him looking. He knew because he could sense his gaze even behind the sunglasses. Could see Tony’s squint in his periphery; it was pinned on him, watching him watch the cuffs.

Under his eye, Tony stretched his fingers then curled them into a fist so that the tendons of his forearm shifted the muscle, the carpals twisting against the restraint of the cuff. The movement shot to his cock and Steve had to tear his eyes away, trying to shove these thoughts back where they belonged, but now Tony had noticed and Steve wasn’t sure what that meant. All he could do was turn and walk into the Quinjet, selecting a seat far from Tony.

But he still felt his eye on him.

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After the ice one thing remained the same: Captain America gave the orders. In the middle of battle his world narrowed to a calm and controllable moment. When they fought the super-villain of the week, he knew what to do. He knew how to get his men in and out, how to minimize the damage. On the battlefield he gave the orders.

People always assumed that would transfer to the bedroom, as well.

Steve felt his cheeks heat at the thought, at how wrong it was. Pressing his lips together, he willed the color to fade from his cheeks as he handed Tony the drink. The drink he’d been ordered to make.

It was a simple, mindless command. All the Avengers were in the common floor, setting the table for dinner. Natasha placed the silverware while Bruce handed Clint some bread rolls. Steve was ordered to the bar by Tony, and he followed the command automatically. It wasn’t until his hand curled around the whiskey, that he had the sense to blush at his eager reaction.

“Everything okay?” Tony smirked as he accepted the drink Steve presented. “You look a little flushed.” His voice had turned smooth and silky. Tony’d been watching him, had been for a while now, and his gaze burned with a challenge...or was it a flirtation? Steve’s blush only deepened, now feeling held in place by his words alone.

Tony gestured to the chair next to him.“Sit down, Steve.”

Steve sat.

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Moving into the Avengers Tower changed everything. For one, it established a routine. Steve knew that when he returned from his run, he’d find his team waiting for him with a box of pizza and a movie queued up.

What he hadn’t expected was Jane. Not that there was anything wrong with Jane, she was a lovely lady and sweet on Thor unlike any other. But she was in his seat and the couch was otherwise full.

Tony watched him. Steve was looking at Jane but he could feel his stare. “Good to see you, Jane.”

“Thanks.” Her smile was warm and welcoming, and Steve tried to focus on it and not the way Tony’s gaze crawled over his body.  

“Oh, Steve, we can make room,” Bruce began as he shifted on the cushion. His hip hit Natasha who jolted into Clint and the two spies grumbled over the move. Steve was just about to apologize even though he hadn’t really done anything, when Tony cleared his throat. 

Steve’s eyes fell to Tony as if he had been waiting this whole time to be beckoned. “There’s plenty of room here.” Tony picked up a cushion-sized throw pillow and tossed it onto the floor, then gestured toward it. “You’ll be closest to the pizza too,” he added, casual. The rest of team had returned to their food and conversation, so when Tony looked back at Steve he was the only one to see the way Tony licked his lips; just a little, a brush of tongue against skin and Steve followed it along. He knew he would sit on the cushion by Tony’s feet. They both knew it. 

To a casual observer the act of sitting on the ground made sense, it was only in his mind that it was a big deal. No one else cared enough to question. Bruce even made room for him to slide by.

And then Steve was lowering onto his knees next to Tony. 

The press of Tony’s fabric covered leg burned into Steve’s back. He could see his bare foot next to his lap, and Steve had the fleeting thought of pulling the foot into his hands, rubbing it until he made Tony moan.

“Pizza?” Tony’s voice cut through the fantasy and Steve felt his skin flush, kept his eyes on the cushion as he nodded. That’s when he noticed the colors, stitched together iron man red and Tony Stark gold. It was like he had the man under him, in a way, and a shiver ran up his spine at the thought, the sounds of the movie falling away to background noise.

Steve shifted, knew he was sitting up straighter than he needed to, but Tony’s presence behind him was a warm reminder of how close they were; Steve was on his knees, put there by Tony. The pizza tasted like nothing in his mouth but he could pinpoint every spot on his back where they touched one another.

A hand brushed against his neck where the nape met the edges of his hair. Tony’s strong, calloused finger dragged along the soft skin and Steve stopped breathing, frozen until another finger joined the first, to press in and massage their way down the tense muscle of his neck. Steve stifled a groan, thankful for the dim lights and the cover of the movie, but he gave himself the small relief of relaxing against Tony’s leg. 

Above him, Tony made a soft, pleased noise and a knot deep inside Steve’s stomach unraveled, warming him with satisfaction from the inside out. The sensation didn’t surprise him, despite their strange, new behavior and heated stares, it seemed natural to sit here by Tony’s side, allow the man to feed him, to pet him. 

It seemed completely natural to want to make Tony happy.  

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“Steve, come here.” Tony’s voice was soft, but Steve hopped to his feet and crossed the room to where Tony sat at his workbench. The surface was littered with delicate tools and scraps of metal. Tony held pliers in one hand and a delicate circle of metal in the other. He didn’t acknowledge Steve’s arrival, beyond lowering his voice further. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Steve replied, trying and failing to keep the hitch out of his voice.

“I need you.” Tony twisted the pliers one last time, then smiled. “To do something for me.”

Steve nodded. He didn’t trust his voice. He wasn’t sure he could trust his knees not to give out.

Tony pulled his t-shirt off, revealing smooth skin wrapped around tight muscle, and the web of scars that surrounded the arc reactor. Steve wanted to reach out and touch, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t touch, or move, or act until Tony told him to.

Tony's manic mouth started to move a mile a minute drawing Steve's gaze back up. “I had this thought, I honestly don’t know how I didn’t have it before, but it’s all I need to fix the cycling issue and even, dare I say, stop that pesky little short that happens if I go for a run and then touch metal while simultaneously running the microwave.” Tony tipped his chair back and tapped the fingers of one hand on the arc reactor, while the other held up the carefully shaped ring from the workbench. “Just a small addition to the casing. It’s genius, if I do say so myself, which I do, almost daily.”

Steve worried at his lip, wondering if he had imagined the growing tension from earlier, until Tony settled back into his chair, monologue over, and held Steve’s gaze in silence for a moment. “I need you to do exactly as I tell you.”

He was beautiful and serious and commanding and Steve’s stomach swooped as the rest of the world fell away to leave only Tony in sharp focus. The tension returned, tenfold, all wound through Steve’s nerves until it pulled him taut.

“Yes, Tony,” he replied, automatically, and then blushed as he realized how that sounded.

“Good.” Tony pressed the release and the arc reactor popped forward. “Take it out.”

The reactor was heavier than Steve expected. A thick, braided cable ran from its base into the casing cut deep in Tony’s chest. Steve cradled the device, intensely aware of the power he held in his hands. His heart pounded so loudly he was sure Tony could hear it. He wanted Tony to hear and know the effect he had on him.

Tony kept his hands on the armrests and directed Steve with only his voice - steady, sure, firm. Steve followed his instructions in a haze, his entire mind absorbed by his task. There was no workshop, no Avengers, no Captain America. He did as Tony told him and it was so easy.

With Tony’s guidance Steve teased apart the tiny pieces of the arc reactor and inserted the new piece, clicking it into place behind the vibranium housing.

“Good job, Steve,” Tony whispered, his smile playing at the edges between pleased, proud and dirty. The praise shot straight to Steve’s core and he sucked in a slow breath, keeping his hands steady as he snapped the device back into one piece.

Steve pressed the reactor back into its casing with a satisfying click. He let his palm rest over it, the blue light dancing through his spread fingers.

He was so absorbed in the reactor’s glow that when Tony’s hand slid to Steve’s hip he startled. The hand stilled and so did Steve, willing it to stay. Then it moved, sliding upwards until it could wrap around the fabric of Steve’s shirt and draw him close enough for the other hand to join it.

Tony walked his hands up Steve’s chest, grabbing alternating fistfuls of t-shirt and sending Steve’s clothes into disarray, as he climbed steadily higher. Steve leaned into the pressure, feeling the searing heat of Tony’s bare chest against the now exposed skin of his stomach.

Tony paused, hands clenched in the fabric over Steve’s heart, their faces only inches apart. His eyes flicked down to Steve’s mouth. Tony didn’t demand, not this time. Instead, he tipped his gaze back up to meet Steve’s and asked, “May I?”

The “yes” tumbled out against Tony’s lips as Steve surged forward.

Chapter Text

Steve had drawn this fountain, back before the War. He slid his pencil around the outline of the figure, and sketched the statue’s eyes into familiar brown ones. He gripped the pencil tighter. It was easier to focus his strength on the fragile tool than let his mind wander. Everything came back to Tony.

They’d kissed the day before and he hadn’t seen the man since. The ambient sounds of the park and the scratch of the pencil usually helped with his focus, but it seemed Tony broke through even his most reliable defenses. He remembered the pressure of his lips, his taste...then they had parted. Tony had pulled away first, pupils blown wide, and excused himself to a meeting with a twist of regret in his smile.

Steve shaded in the shadows as he thought of Tony’s lips. He hadn’t expected the man to stop by the door on his way out, and thank Steve for the kiss.

There was so much Steve hadn’t expected.

His pencil curved through the shadow and it reminded him of the way Tony’s hair curled at the edges.

“Why are you drawing that nymph with clothes on?” Steve stilled his pencil, breath catching Tony’s scent as it invaded the air between them. “Fewer blush inducing parts?”

“You’re a menace,” Steve mumbled as Tony slid onto the bench next to him, accompanying his teasing with an elbow to the ribs. Steve was unable to hold back a smile even as he covered the nymph with his arm. It looked too much like Tony. But the way the man’s eyes flickered to the page made him wonder if Tony had seen anyway.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Tony whispered, and the mood shifted between them with only a handful of words.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, and wanted to kick himself to stop his heart from racing as Tony moved closer to him on the bench.

“I’ve been watching you,” Tony added.

He sat frozen to the bench, waiting for Tony’s next words.

“I think you like me watching.”

Steve remained silent until he realized Tony was waiting for him to reply. “I do,” he admitted, face burning even though no one around them could overhear.

“I liked kissing you,” Tony continued, and it took every ounce of courage Steve possessed to lift his eyes from his sketchbook to meet Tony’s clear and close and searching gaze. “Can I kiss you again?”

Steve’s eyes dropped to Tony’s lips. They were full and slightly chapped from biting, and Steve closed the space between them as his answer. He thought of the families at the park, felt a brief rise of panic at what used to be indecent behavior, before he let the kiss take over.

Tony’s hand roamed to the back of Steve’s neck during the kiss and when they pulled apart, Steve wanted to drop his head into the steady weight of Tony’s grip. He knew the man had begun speaking and Steve gathered himself enough to listen through the haze of Tony’s taste, and touch and scent. “I’d like to be able to kiss you whenever I want,” Tony said, voice rough.

Pleasure rushed to Steve’s groin. “That,” he cleared his throat, “would be good.”

“I want other things too,” Tony continued, and Steve’s focus left the man’s lips, moved over the bit of collarbone that peeked above his shirt, his long eyelashes that fluttered with every blink. But Tony wasn’t blinking now, instead he grabbed Steve’s chin, forced their gazes to meet head on. “I want to do so much with you. But for now, I’ll kiss you and touch you, whenever and wherever I want.”

Steve sat on the bench, in the middle of Central Park, on fire, and nodded.

“Good.” Tony leaned back on the bench, breaking the tension between them with a sudden snap as he brushed a hand over Steve’s hair, rubbing it like you would a child, or a pet. Then he pulled his phone out of his jeans and tossed Steve a distracted smile. “I gotta go.” Tony took him in and softened at what must be his very flustered demeanor. “I’ll see you at home, come to the penthouse around seven.”

“Okay, Tony.” He leaned back on the bench, alone now, mind diving into all the things Tony might have planned. Kissing, touching, wherever and whenever. He wanted everything, everything Tony wanted.

He sat there for a long time, the half-finished sketch lying discarded in his lap.

Chapter Text

Don’t put it down.

Back in the limo, Tony’s words had sent a shiver down Steve’s spine. Now, surrounded by all these people, the memory alone sent a shock straight to his groin.  

He rolled the metal sphere Tony had given him around in his palm. His hot skin had warmed it to body temperature. It was all he could think about, despite the press of the party around him, the music, the laughter.

Tony was somewhere in the room watching him. Watching him move it carefully from right to left to shake someone’s hand. Watching the flush creep up the back of his neck.

A pretty girl in a black dress offered Steve a drink from a tray, but he refused, not willing to give up his one free hand. The metal wrapped in the embrace of his fingers was getting him drunker than any alcohol could.

He could still feel Tony's hot breath whispering the lone command into his ear, the memory of it controlling his movements even while Tony sat several tables away. He imagined what else he would want him to do...

Smile, Cap, people are watching.

Play with it more, show me you have it.

Don’t put it down.

Steve tried to focus on the conversation around him but his own mind tormented him. It was a charity benefit, he should be schmoozing. But all he could do was slide his thumb along its smooth, metal surface, feeling the tiniest of edges where the colors changed.

Brown eyes met Steve’s from across the room. Tony smirked and Steve’s hand clenched helplessly around the red and gold ball.

Chapter Text

Steve didn’t know how long he’d been napping, but the light that kissed his eyelids was softer than when he had first closed them, so it must have been a while. A slight rustle of clothing next to him let him know he hadn’t woken naturally, but the sudden increase in his heart rate meant it was Tony crouching down next to the couch. Steve kept his eyes closed, waiting.

“I want to touch you,” Tony whispered in his ear, warm breath caressing his cheek.

“Anything,” Steve breathed out, sleep making his words mushy.

He heard Tony smile. There was another rustle and Tony bent over him, their chests nearly touching, then the barest brush of Tony's lips against his. Tony spoke so quietly a non-superhero wouldn’t have heard a word.

“Steve. Are you going to open your eyes?” The commanding edge to his question set Steve’s nerves alight.

“No.” He wanted to arch up and press their lips together, the tease of Tony's barely there kiss almost too tortuous to bear, but it wasn't his move to make.

“Are you going to move?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Light fingers danced down Steve’s side, then tucked up under his shirt. The cotton t-shirt and gym shorts he wore suddenly seemed naked and exposed as he blushed under the gaze he knew he was subject to.

Tony’s hands were scattered at first, flitting from place to place—hip, to shoulder, then back down to squeeze his thigh. The frantic petting began to calm, hands sliding slower and with more purpose. They caressed over the jut of his hip bone, along the side of his ribs and up to his chest.

Tony spread one palm flat for a moment, covering the place where the arc reactor sat in his own chest, then slid his hand up until his fingers circled Steve’s neck. Steve swallowed hard at the twisting deep in his gut that Tony’s fingers awoke. He was hard, but he had no idea where Tony intended to take this. He was entirely in Tony’s hands, and those hands were bringing him somewhere he’d never been before. He still felt half asleep, and yet vibrantly awake at the same time. Every touch was multiplied tenfold, but his body happily stayed willing and still, no matter where Tony’s fingers alighted next.

Leaving Steve’s neck, Tony ran his palm around his jaw and over his ear to settle in his hair. He threaded his fingers through the strands and combined a soothing massage with a slightly-too-hard tug.

Without visual input, Steve’s traitor mind immediately supplied the hundreds of things Tony could do with his hand twisted into Steve’s hair. Pull him around wherever he went, shove him to his knees, press him into the couch.

Tony must have noticed the effect he was having on Steve, but he didn’t seem to have any urgency in his explorations. His fingers wandered anywhere they liked, without pattern or rhythm. Occasionally they brushed along his straining erection, but they never showed any inclination to linger there.

What felt like hours later, Tony leaned forward again to whisper against Steve’s mouth, his hands continuing to explore. “I watched you in the park for such a long time, the other day. You were so beautiful, sitting there drawing. I could watch those hands move all day.”

Steve’s lips parted of their own accord, drawing in Tony’s sweet breath, willing him closer.

“I was late, Pepper had already called me about 37 times to tell me I’d better get my ass down to the office, but I couldn’t leave without knowing that you would let me do this. I shouldn’t have bothered going into the office anyway—all I could think about through the whole damn meeting was you. All the things I want to do with you. To you. The things I want you to do.”

Steve swallowed hard and heard Tony suck in a breath as he leaned back again. Steve mourned the loss of his warmth, but then the hand was back, sliding down his chest, lulling him back into that magical place of hypersensitive peace.

The hand ran down Steve’s leg, over the arch of his foot, and off the end of his toes. A satisfied little groan that sounded suspiciously like “mine” slipped out of Tony’s mouth, then Tony's footsteps padded softly out of the room.

Chapter Text

Open me. - T

Steve pulled the ribbon and stared at the camera nestled inside the box.

The elevator chimed. “...they’ll be upset anyway. I sent a goat instead of Iron Man,” Tony tucked his phone under his ear and headed for the kitchen. “I don’t care, I’m here in New York and-- Oh, Steve! You opened it. Pepper, I have to go.”

Steve startled when Tony’s arm slipped around his waist. The easy affection was new and he tried not to focus on how much he enjoyed it, unsure if he was reading too much into the casual gesture.

“You’re so”—Tony turned him, hands gripping his biceps—“tense. Get the camera and follow me.”

Steve followed the order without hesitation. It felt like forever since Tony’s last order, his last touch. He had no idea what Tony had planned, but his uncertainty gave way to excitement.

Tony guided him around the couch that was pushed back to expose the large area rug. He took the camera from Steve and gave his shirt a gentle tug. Steve pulled it off and tossed it aside, warming under Tony's appreciative gaze.

“You're far too beautiful to be this uncomfortable in your own skin and—”

“I am not.”

“You are too. And don't interrupt me.” His eyes darkened when Steve snapped his jaw shut. “It makes sense. This body hasn’t been yours for very long.”

Steve crossed his arms and remembered when they were half their size, when Tony would’ve towered over him. “Maybe. A little. But that doesn’t explain all this.” Steve gestured to the camera in Tony's hands.

The camera flashed.

Holographic screens popped to life around them, reflecting the image over and over—a closeup of his bicep

“Good aim,” Steve teased. “You missed my face.”

“Nope.” Another flash, this one of Steve from behind as he turned to look at the screens. His back was, well, if it were anyone else Steve would be impressed.

He let out a heavy breath, and pinned Tony with a glare. "You think"—the camera flashed in a series of photos—"you know everything."

The screens lit up with Steve's face, eyes narrowed and mouth partly open, caught mid-sentence. He could see the amusement in his eyes, warring with exasperation. Was this how Tony saw him?

“I do know everything. Take off your jeans.”

Flash.

Steve pulled back the denim to reveal a pair of tight, white briefs. "Oh." The camera clicked rapidly. "Your ass looks divine in those."

Steve's eyes widened.

“That face,” Tony crowded into Steve’s space. “Anyone would be lucky to see you like this. Maybe I'll parade you around"—Tony's hand gripped his shoulder and lowered him to the rug—“on your knees. For everyone to see.”

There was another flash but Steve’s gaze was now on the obvious bulge in Tony's pants. “Look at me,” Tony whispered, and Steve's eyes flicked back up. “Fuck. You're pretty.” He took another photo before lowering the camera and staring at Steve. “I want to touch you.”

He nudged until Steve tipped onto the rug, removing his own pants before standing with one leg on either side of Steve's, to take another series of photos. Then he slid down to straddle him. “I'm going to pull you out, and wrap my hand around our cocks. Do you want that?

He nodded and Tony did exactly as he promised. With his other hand, he lifted the camera and photographed their cocks sliding side by side. Steve’s pulsed under the camera’s attention.

He wondered what Tony would do with these photos. The thought of him looking at them, hand wrapped around himself, was enough to make him moan. The sound was broken off by Tony’s twisting hand.

“I’ve been wanting to make you come for a long time,” he murmured, picking up the pace of his hand and Steve could only watch, their cocks disappearing inside a calloused grip. Fascinated by the sight, he felt an urge to pick up the camera.

Tony caught his glance. “Go on, pick it up.”

Steve flushed, but did. Tony wanted him to come, wanted to give him pleasure and it looked so beautiful through the camera. Steve took one last photo, before letting it fall to the side. One more turn of Tony’s hand and they both fell over the edge.

“Beautiful,” Tony whispered after they pulled apart, lying side by side on Steve’s living room rug. All he could do was nod in agreement.

This also helped with motivation.

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Steve stretched out on the floor, nestling his bare skin against the plush rug. He still tingled from head to toe after three mind-blowing orgasms. Every time his eyes caught sight of Tony’s hand for the next week, he was going to have to push away an erection. Those talented hands; Steve wondered if he’d be able to handle the feel of Tony’s mouth or his ass, when even the thought of them made Steve’s spent cock twitch inside his briefs.

“You’re insatiable.” Tony, sprawled out next to Steve, rested his chin on his palm as he turned onto his side. “I bet I can find a way to wear you out. Roll onto your stomach, let me see your ass for a moment.”

Steve did. His breath caught in his throat until he felt Tony pull back his waistband. With his face pressed into the rug, he felt Tony’s hand brush against his bare ass. “So, very pretty. I want to paint this ass red one day. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Tony.”

“You agree so prettily.”

Steve pressed his lips together, fighting a smile. “Of course, Tony.”

“Cheeky.” Tony swatted at his ass. “I bet you’re hard again.” A firm grip against Steve’s shoulder and Tony was turning him to see how right he was. “I’m going to have to invent a way to keep up with you. Make sure you’re taken care of the way you need.” Tony trailed his finger from his waistband to his nipple, circling the sensitive skin. “Do you like toys?” He bent down to lick at the nub. “I can make you all sorts of goodies.” He bit and Steve gasped at the pleasure and pain. “Would you like that?”

Steve arched into Tony, breath panting even as Tony pulled away, eyes narrowing as he waited for an answer.

“Yes, Tony.” Steve swallowed. “I’d like that very much.”

Chapter Text

The orchestra crescendoed into the middle of the first act and Steve shifted in his seat in Tony’s box at the Met. Every movement pressed the plug into a new angle, and he floated between pleasure and mortification as the opera faded into the background.

Every so often Tony would rub his hand up and down Steve’s thigh, his fingertips ghosting into the sensitive skin between his legs. The soprano sung, while Steve squirmed. He’d known what the toy was when Tony had offered it to him, but hadn’t thought about how one might feel inside him.  

It wasn’t until the second act that Steve realized Tony hadn’t been entirely forthcoming about the toy. A cellist led the strings into the next aria, when a vibration sparked to life from within the plug. Steve gasped, and Tony didn’t even try to suppress a dark chuckle.

His whole body tensed and the plug was unforgiving, shifting until the vibration rested directly on his prostate. He gripped Tony’s arm. Remembering the dark glint in Tony’s eye when he slid the plug into him—Tony loved this, Steve flustered, desperate, turned into a needy mess for Tony.

“You’re doing so well,” Tony murmured into Steve’s ear. “You look edible, all dressed up and shaking. I bet you’d let me unzip your pants right here and take care of you.”

Steve’s head fell onto Tony’s shoulder as the ensemble sang on stage. “Yes, Tony. Please.”

He chuckled again and Steve closed his eyes, the sound rolling straight through his erection to land near where the plug nailed his prostate. “I’m not going to take you here, Steve. At least, not tonight.”

A whine spilled from Steve’s throat as he turned his head into Tony’s neck. “Jesus, Steve, you’re—fuck you’re hot like this. I thought we could make it till the end but—no, no, that won’t be happening.”

Steve started to thrust into the air above his hips now, spurred on by the way Tony’s neck smelled and how he tasted when Steve let his tongue run against his pulse.

“We’re going,” Tony said, pushing out of his seat in the middle of a duet. When Tony pulled him to his feet, the plug shifted again and Steve moaned, stopping mid-stride as he willed away his orgasm.

When they reached the limo, Steve slipped into the backseat, desperately hard, mind racing as he wondered what Tony’s plan was. What he didn’t expect was Tony sliding to his knees between Steve’s legs.

“What?” Steve stuttered, hips jerking forward under the onslaught of stimulation. Tony pushed him back onto the seat.

“I want you to come. And what did I say about things that I want?”

“You get the things you want,” he breathed out.

“And what do I want?”

“For me to come.”

“Very good.” Then he pushed Steve back so his ass dragged along the seat and he saw stars. By the time he had recovered, Tony had his pants unbuttoned and was pulling out Steve’s swollen cock. The first drag of Tony’s tongue around the tip almost had Steve believing he’d be able to last a few minutes. But then Tony sucked him down long and hard, so that Steve hit the back of his throat. His hips jolted, knocking the plug against his prostate and then Tony swallowed. Steve was done for, hips raising into Tony’s hands, cock pulsing in his throat and Steve shivered as wave after wave of pleasure shot from his prostate to the tip of his cock.

He leaned back and Tony slipped his hand into his pocket and the vibration stopped. Steve gasped, somehow missing the sensation that had tortured him for hours. But then Tony was lifting off from his cock. His tongue licked at his lips as he watched Steve, catching a drop of come that he had missed. Steve followed his tongue, eyes glued on his abused lips. He wanted to reach out, could see the bulge in Tony’s pants.

But instead, Tony zipped him back up and slid into the spot next to Steve. He knew he looked dazed and Tony seemed amused by it. “What do you say, Steve?” Tony asked, his voice taking on that low edge.

“Thank you?” Steve guessed and the corner of Tony’s mouth flicked up into a half smile.

“You’ll show me how thankful you are when we get back to the Tower.”

Then he took out the sleek remote and flicked the vibration back on.

Chapter Text

Tony sat on the floor, legs splayed out, back braced against the couch. All around him were Iron Man armour bits, and part of the prototype wristwatch gauntlet clung to the back of one hand. Instead of working, he was mashing buttons on a controller, eyes fixed on the huge TV across the room where rows of monsters were blasted to smithereens over and over. Steve leaned against the doorframe, enjoying the view.

“Come here,” Tony called, his attention not leaving the screen.

Steve padded across the room, kicking off his shoes and socks as he went, and Tony tipped his head back to indicate Steve should sit on the couch behind him. As soon as he was settled on the cushions, Tony braced his feet and slithered up until he was tucked between Steve’s legs, hips between his thighs. He shifted backwards until they were pressed together, leaning into Steve, back to chest on the couch.

Tony kept his focus, unwavering, on the game, fingers flying as he dispatched monster after monster. With no controller to occupy his own hands, Steve slid his palms up Tony’s legs and skated a thumb under the hem of his t-shirt, but before he could go further Tony spoke up.

“Uh, uh. Stop that.”

Steve’s hands stilled, then returned to his sides.

“Good. Relax.”

Steve thrilled at the praise, letting his head drop back against the couch and closing his eyes.

Tony played on, the staccato gunfire sounds of the game becoming white noise as Steve sunk into the fabric.

Tony’s low voice cut through the calm. “I love how good you are for me. You do as I say so easily. I can have you any way I want. I could tell you to drop to your knees, put that pretty mouth to good use. I could stretch you out on this rug again and tease you until you begged to come.”

Steve was hard from the sound of Tony’s voice alone, hoping he would do just that. He wanted more than that, more than hands and mouths and toys. He wanted to feel Tony inside him, their bodies connected. He wanted Tony to take him and claim him. He wanted to ask for it, to tell Tony what his whole body begged for, but he couldn’t find the words.

He could feel every inch of Tony’s body tucked up against his own, the heat of his back burning into Steve’s thighs, but he didn’t need to be told twice. He kept his hands to himself.

Tony went on. “You’re so good for me. Even when you’re so hard, so desperate you want to rut up against me, you keep still, relaxed.” It was praise and an order rolled into one. Steve took another deep breath and willed every muscle in his body to calm. He would be good. “God it’s so hard deciding what I want from you next. Could take some time...thinking something up.”

The screen flashed red: GAME OVER. Tony tossed the controller aside and stood, turning to face Steve, their eyes meeting for the first time. Tony’s gaze drifted down, and Steve felt every inch of his body light up as Tony took it in. From his exposed throat, to the curve of his waist, his spread legs, knees wide where Tony had been sitting, to bare feet kicked out onto the rug. Tony’s eyes flicked back up to the needy bulge in Steve’s pants and his cock twitched under the attention.

The corner of Tony’s mouth ticked up. “Gorgeous.” He twisted his wrist and the half-finished gauntlet slipped off his hand and fell to the floor. Steve’s breath caught at the thought of that beautiful hand wrapped around him, or those long, clever fingers opening him up.

“I’ll be back in an hour. Steve?”

“Yes, Tony?” The words tumbled out of their own accord, as if they had been waiting, lined up behind Steve’s teeth.

“Don’t touch yourself.”

Something glorious clenched deep in Steve’s gut. He wanted a hand on his cock, desperately, but more than that he wanted the feeling he would get when Tony returned and saw him still yearning, saw how good he had been. He could wait.

“Yes, Tony.”

Chapter Text

Chapter One

Steve’s shirt snagged between them, nylon catching Tony’s crisp, white shirt. It had come from Tony’s closet and was two sizes too small. They almost couldn't leave the Tower, the way Tony kept kissing at his neck, biting at his skin, pushing him up against the bedroom door.

His hands were all over him again, only this time in public.

The club was…friendly.

All around him men and women were grinding, ignited under the lights and lasers. Next to them two men kissed, sloppy and full of tongue, and Steve couldn’t stop staring. At least until Tony put his hand down his pants, and pressed into the flesh.

“Fuck.” Steve let his head fall forward and Tony’s shoulder shook with laughter.

“Enjoying yourself?” His words tickled Steve’s ear and he was overwhelmed by the thigh between his legs. It should be illegal, indecent, to be this carnal in a room full of people. But it was everyone. The dancers next to him were all wrapped up in their own pleasures.

Tony’s tongue flicked his earlobe, “I want to watch you dance,” he said into the over-sensitive skin. “I want to see you, coming to one of the raunchiest clubs in Hell’s Kitchen all dressed up like you’re ready to be fucked. I want to see you move. I want to show you off.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and the reaction only made Tony’s grin spread, predatory. “Don’t be afraid to make friends.” Then he walked off the dance floor.

He didn’t move far, to a booth against the wall. Steve swayed his hips, tried to find the easy beat he had when he was in Tony’s arms. The music changed and he turned on the balls of his feet, eyes closing as he spun under the spotlights.

From behind closed eyes, he imagined Tony watching him, remembered clever hands heating his skin and then he didn’t have to imagine anymore. A hand, delicate and female, scratched nails into his back. A body, smooth and heady, crowded into the space Tony once held.

Over her shoulder he saw Tony. The light on the wall illuminated his face enough for Steve to see his heated eyes.

“Care to dance?” The voice was husky, laced with intent. He remembered Tony’s comment about making friends. He slid his arm around the woman’s too-small waist, and followed Tony’s order.

He looked back towards the booth, and Steve tripped over his own feet. Tony smiled at a woman, his arm slung around her waist. She wore a waitress uniform, her head tossed back in laughter and Steve looked away. He tried to smile, be friendly to his dance partner, but his hips remained unsure and when the song ended she moved away.

He wasn’t alone long. “Your boyfriend leave?” A gruff voice, then all Steve could see was dark skin and muscular abs until he looked up to see interested eyes roaming across his body. “His loss.”

The man's hands moved everywhere, over Steve's shoulders and down his waist, even up to tousle his hair before he pulled Steve against him. He tried to look over the man’s shoulder, wanting to feel Tony’s gaze on him again but when he found the booth it was empty.

The man’s hands slid into the back of Steve’s jeans and he mouthed at Steve’s neck-- Until another hand gripped his bicep, pulling them apart.

Tony tugged him, no words exchanged, across the dance floor and into the bathroom. He shoved him into a stall and up against the door. The wood snagged Steve’s shirt until Tony ripped it over his head to bite at his nipples. He thought fleetingly of the waitress but it was chased away by Tony’s ruthless teeth. “You’re such a slut. Letting everyone touch you. So fucking hot.” Tony’s mouth broke from his chest and ran up Steve’s neck until he moaned, hips rocking up into Tony’s. He remembered how it felt to dance, the woman’s frame wrapped around him, the man grabbing at his body. “Their hands all over you. Was he hard? I bet he was, how could he not be? Look at you.” Then he was kissing Steve and the onslaught of Tony’s words twisted in his head.

He pictured Tony under the lights, beautiful people wrapped around him. The waitress was there, dancing with him like all the rest. Would they fall to their knees? Would she? Had others submitted as easily as Steve? Tony would command them so masterfully, like he always did. The thought of Tony dominating anyone caused a surge of arousal and the moans that fell from his mouth were both involuntary and forthright. “Fuck, Tony. Please, touch me.”

A rough hand rubbed against his bulge, Tony unzipped his pants. Steve ached for him. “They got you all hot, huh?” he whispered against Steve’s ear. “Did you like me watching?”

Steve nodded, head bumping against the wooden door.

“Tell me.”

“Yes, Tony,” Steve gasped. “I loved you watching me. When you told me what to do, when you showed me off.  Just for you-”

Tony broke off his words by taking them both in hand. “On the dance floor anyone can play with you, but you know who you belong to.” The hand around their cocks sped, and Steve was unable to focus beyond the filth dripping so beautifully from Tony’s mouth. “Steve,” Tony prompted, hand pulling along the head of Steve’s cock. “Who do you belong to?”

“You,” Steve gasped and Tony hummed in agreement, and with another few flicks of his wrist they were both coming apart.

Tony pulled away first with a lazy smile and handed Steve his shirt. He wrapped an arm around Steve’s neck, pulling him close so Tony could nuzzle into the soft skin. He was mumbling words that sounded like Steve, yes, mine .

Steve thought of the dance floor, the waitress, of Tony knowing his way around the club. And he knew he was Tony’s, but he wondered if mine went both ways.

Chapter Two

Steve frowned at the page, then tore it out and crumpled it into a ball. The stark white of a new sheet frowned back.

There was movement by the door and Tony sauntered in, grinning cockily when he saw Steve camped out on the couch.

“Waiting for me?” he asked, a familiar edge to his words.

Steve flicked his eyes up to Tony, then back to the page and his frown deepened. “I’m not in the mood, Tony.”

He caught a raised eyebrow out of the corner of his eye. Tony dropped his stuff on the floor and made his way over, then wiggled into the tiny space on Steve’s right, jammed between his hip and the arm of the sofa. “Shove up.”

A finger poked into Steve’s side and he sighed, but made space, eyeing the acres of room on his left that Tony had chosen to ignore. Tony leaned back, arms stretched across the back of the couch, and even in his heavy funk, Steve still yearned to lean back into his hand.

“Not in the mood for what?” Tony teased.

“Don’t be an ass.” Steve pressed his pencil to the paper and unabashedly curved the line into the edge of Tony’s jaw, sketching in a rough mass of hair and an arched eyebrow.

Tony peered over his shoulder to get a better look. “Handsome.”

“He’s modest too.” Steve fussed with the ears while Tony chuckled.

The hand lifted off the sofa and slid up Steve’s back, rubbing firm fingers into the stiff muscles in his neck. A groan slipped out of Steve’s mouth, as he leaned into it.

“So what are you in the mood for?”

“Just thought I’d draw for a bit.” Steve knew his voice wasn’t as emotionless as he wanted and that Tony would pick up on it immediately.

Tony watched him in silence, as Steve shaped the eyes and nose then dropped his pencil down to curve around Tony’s lip. Out of the corner of his eye Steve saw Tony’s tongue dart out to trace along the edge of the real thing.

He leaned forward and breathed into Steve’s ear, “Well, I’m in the mood to suck you off.”

Steve’s pencil stilled, his grip creasing the paper. Tony waited, hovering by his ear, but not pushing. Steve imagined Tony’s hot mouth sliding around his cock and knew he was going to give in.

He tossed the sketchbook aside and turned to face Tony, challenging him with a look. Tony grinned in response and climbed up onto his knees. He pushed Steve flat on his back, stretched out along the couch, one foot propped up on the far arm, the other flat on the floor. Tony crawled up between his legs until he loomed over Steve’s prone form.

Steve ran a hand up Tony’s side, across his chest and over the arc reactor, a small smile threatening the scowl.

Tony made short work of Steve’s pants, pushing them down just far enough that he could pull his needy cock out of his boxers. He sucked him down immediately, taking him as deep as he could. Steve gasped, his foot braced against the arm of the couch, back arching up off the fabric.

Tony worked him relentlessly until he was a panting, twitching mess, so close he was sure he’d explode any minute.

And then he stopped.

Steve’s hips stuttered forward, chasing the heat and wet as Tony pulled away, but he put a firm hand on Steve’s stomach, holding him flat.

“What’s bothering you?”

“What?” Steve choked out, eyes fixed on Tony’s mouth.

“You’ve been unhappy since last night, what’s wrong?” Tony waited until Steve’s eyes focused on his own. “Steve, if you don’t tell me what went wrong, I can’t protect you from it happening again.”

The thought of Tony taking care to protect Steve from being hurt sent a warm tingle from his toes up the back of his neck, but his mind just wouldn’t stop supplying images of Tony and the waitress from the club, of Tony with another lover at his feet.

“I -” Tony rubbed an encouraging hand up Steve’s thigh. “It’s not a big deal. I just - The waitress. Did you...would you have taken her home, if I hadn’t been there?”

Tony considered Steve for a long time, until the relentless gaze made him flush and squirm.

“Why?” Tony finally asked.

Steve shifted up into a sitting position, voice barely a whisper, blush threatening to ignite his hairline. “I guess- I realized I don’t really like the idea of you doing this with other people.”

Tony smiled. “Well, well, Captain America, are you asking me to go steady?”

Steve burned with embarrassment, tipping his head down and willing the couch to swallow him whole.

Tony tucked two fingers under Steve’s chin and raised it until he met his eyes. His teasing smile faded, replaced with something serious and honest. “Hey now. It’s okay to ask for things you want, you know.” Tony pressed his forehead against Steve’s. “I want you, not her. You’re mine, I’m yours. You okay?”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. Tony’s hands wandered back down towards his hips. “Yes. I’m yours. And I want you to be mine, too.”

Tony flashed him a brilliant smile. “I mean, that’s not to say I can’t think of some truly delicious things we could do with a friend. But, yeah. I’m yours.”

The carnal pleasure of their dance last night flooded back into Steve’s mind, the memory no longer marred by anxiety, and the erection that had faded somewhat came back, full force. Tony gave him a predatory look and pushed him flat again. “Now, are you going to keep sulking? Or are you going to come when I tell you to?”

Steve bit his lip and pressed back into the cushions, toes curling in anticipation. “I’m going to do whatever you want me to, Tony.”

“Good.”

Chapter Text

Tony was carrying his Iron Man briefcase again. The handcuff scraped against his wrist, connecting him to it. Steve thought of licking the sensitive skin, barely brushing the metal with his tongue. His cock twitched. As Tony entered the penthouse, his eye fell to Steve on the couch, narrowing in on the tent in his shorts.

Tony lowered his sunglasses. “Can’t leave you for one second, these days.”

Steve blushed. He hadn’t seen Tony in a day and now he shows up with a handcuff on his wrist and he's not supposed to react? “Maybe I missed you,” Steve said with a shrug.

“I can see that.” Tony grinned, crossing the room to press a kiss to his lips. He pulled back, eyes dancing. “I have something for you.”

Tony led him to the bedroom, sitting him on the bed before laying the briefcase on the dresser. The chain swayed and Steve wondered how it’d feel between his fingers. His thoughts were interrupted by Tony unceremoniously unlocking the handcuff from the briefcase handle.

“You seem to like my briefcase, or more accurately, the handcuff that connects me to it. I saw you watching.” He held out the handcuff. “You can wear it, if that's something you’d like.” His voice was low and face blank, as if he wanted Steve to decide on his own, without order or compulsion.

Steve’s hand closed around the handcuff, he could hear blood rushing in his ears.

Tony still wore the other cuff, and he thought how easy it would be to pull him with the chain. But that wasn’t what Steve wanted.

“You want that around your wrist?”

Steve nodded.

“Say it,” Tony demanded, even as his own wrist curled, pulling at the chain and tugging at the handcuff.

“Yes.” Steve’s fist tightened around the metal. “I want it.”

Tony crowded into Steve’s space and onto his lap. “Put it on,” he whispered, his breath teasing Steve’s lips. “Bind yourself to me.”

Steve moaned. His hand gripped the metal and he had to rein himself in, remember his strength and relax his grip. He pulled at the handcuff, curling it around his wrist. Steve stared, from the metal to the thin chain and followed its links to the handcuff encircling Tony’s skin.

They were connected, he was tied to Tony. It was something he had thought of when he first saw the briefcase but the reality was enough to stop his breath.

And then Tony tugged. He threw his arm back behind him, and Steve lurched forward, up into Tony’s chest. The man kissed him again before breaking away to bite at his lips. “So strong, yet you’ll follow my lead. Fuck, it shouldn’t be so tempting but it is.”

Steve whined as Tony slid off his lap, walking backward so the chain pulled tighter and tighter, until it was taut. Steve caught Tony’s eyes, they were wild, pupils blown. “You’re tied to me. Waiting for me.”

His only warning was the tiniest narrowing of brown eyes, and then Tony swung his arm back again. Steve jerked forward as he followed it, falling onto his knees in front of Tony’s bed.

“Beautiful,” Tony breathed, “and mine.”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.”

The chain pulled at Steve again, a slight jostle that turned him closer to Tony. His eye caught the sizable tent in Tony’s pants and he shivered at the thought of making him hard. Tony liked him on his knees. Tony liked them tied together. When their eyes met, Steve could read in them all the dark, dangerous possession Tony felt, and Steve wanted it. Wanted everything Tony chose to give him.

“Crawl.”

He felt his blush move down to his chest, humiliation sparking under his skin, yet Tony wouldn’t let him drop his gaze. “You good, Steve?” Tony followed his order with the whispered question, eyes never losing their intensity.

Instead of answering, Steve moved onto all fours and started to crawl. The chain loosened, proof that he was tied to Tony, that he was getting closer and closer to him.

“All that muscle shifting in your back, you look sinful.” Tony paused. “Sit back on your heels for me.” He did.

Tony’s hand dragged through his hair, the brush of metal against the strands causing Steve’s cock to twitch.

“By my side and bound to my wrist... Kneel there, while I think about what I want to do with you.” Tony’s grip tightened and Steve groaned.

“Yes, Tony.”

Chapter Text

The second Tony came through the door, he was all over Steve. Tony crowded him up against the wall, their feet tripping together. Steve felt hot breath against his neck and immediately spiraled down into the wonderful, hazy place where all that mattered was Tony.

“On your knees,” Tony growled out, eyes flashing. His hand dug into Steve’s hair and guided him roughly to the floor. He knelt, legs spread, the backs of his feet pressed against the wall.

Steve ran his hands up Tony’s legs, his cock twitching at the groan it pulled from Tony. Tony tipped forward until his forehead pressed against the wall, body angled over Steve.

The world disappeared; Steve was safe here, in the curve of Tony’s body, surrounded by nothing but him.

Tony’s hands flew to his fly, scrambling to get the zipper down, but when Steve tried to help, Tony smacked his hands away. He abandoned the fly half-way down to reach into his pocket and pull something out, which he slipped into Steve’s hand.

A hot bolt of pleasure shot through Steve when he realized it was the red and gold metal ball Tony had designed for him. Tony finally got his pants undone and pushed them down, rushed, wild.

The more Steve saw him lose control over himself, the stronger Tony’s control over Steve became. He wanted nothing more than to give in to Tony’s command.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth,” Tony hissed out, one elbow braced against the wall, head down. Steve tipped his chin up and met Tony’s fiery gaze. “Drop the ball if you need me to stop.”

Steve’s hand clenched around the ball, cock straining in his jeans. He was so eager, desperate, there was nothing else in that moment, but Tony’s words, and Tony’s eyes, and need.

“Yes, Tony.” His voice was barely a whisper.

Tony’s thumb ran across Steve’s lips, then parted them and slid inside. The soft pad skated along the sharp edge of his teeth and then over the flat of his tongue. Steve opened eagerly, letting Tony push his thumb in, then wrapped his lips around it, sucking, showing him how good it would be.

He heard him moan, then the hand on his jaw clenched, the gentle fingers turning harsh as they pried his jaw open. Before he had time to suck in a full breath, Tony’s hips pressed forward and Steve’s mouth filled with his hard cock.

Tony gave him no time to adjust, pushing all the way in. Steve barely had time to savour the salty taste of precum before Tony’s cock hit the back of his throat and it was all he could do to keep from gagging. He focused on relaxing, opening up to take in all of him as Tony set a punishing rhythm, thrusting into Steve’s willing mouth.

“Fuck, Steve, your mouth is so hot. You take my cock so well. So filthy.” Tony squeezed the base of his dick once, then ran his thumb along the corner of Steve’s mouth, spreading spit down his chin. The hand traveled back up to Steve’s hair and gripped tight. Steve jerked his head back against the wall, thrilling in the pull of those clever fingers. “I could use you all day, choking on my cock, whatever I want.”

Steve sucked hard, swirling his tongue against the head, swallowing down as much as he could. Tony bucked forward relentlessly, barely letting Steve gasp in a breath between unforgiving thrusts.

Tony’s rhythm sped up. Steve’s head banged painfully against the wall again and he closed his eyes, losing himself in the exquisite pleasure of being Tony’s plaything. His own erection strained, forgotten, in his pants, his hands clasped impossibly tight around the metal ball.

“Mine,” Tony hissed. “Fuck, Steve, you’re mine.” Tony’s body curled in even more over him, his words melting into inarticulate groans. The hand gripped his hair tighter and then suddenly Steve’s mouth was bereft as Tony pulled out. Tony collapsed against the wall and his bracing hand dropped to his cock just in time as he cried out and came all over Steve’s face.

Steve’s lips parted, his tongue darting out of its own volition to sneak a taste, even as he gasped in desperate breaths. Their eyes met and held, Tony panting down from his orgasm, finding their breath again, together. Steve knew what he must look like, come dripping down his cheek, flushed, lips swollen, chest heaving.

“You’re perfect,” Tony whispered.

Chapter Text

Steve twisted his hands in the sheets, still fully clothed but panting and wild as Tony grinded down on top of him. “Tony, please,” he gasped out.

A wicked smile lit up Tony’s face. “Please? What is it you want, Steve?” Tony’s hips rolled forward, just right to send an electric jolt through Steve’s stomach.

Steve blushed, mouth opening and closing a few times. “You, I want you,” he got out.

Tony stopped the rolling hips. “Oh, no, that’s not good enough.” He leaned forward, radiating command. “You don’t get anything unless you ask.”

Steve knew exactly what he wanted, but he couldn’t find the words to tell Tony. He wanted to be able to ask, he wanted to please Tony, to do what he was told, but it was all so overwhelming.

Steve twisted his hip up in desperation, grinding his erection against Tony’s ass, but a hand smacked down on his chest, holding him flat.

“What do you want, Steve?”

Tony’s dominating tone cut through his anxiety. The pressure on his chest kept him pinned, even though he could easily toss Tony aside. “I want you to kiss me.” His voice wasn’t as confident as he’d like, but Tony smiled and bent over to press their lips together.

Tony turned the kiss filthy fast, sucking Steve’s tongue into his mouth, nipping at his lips and gripping his neck to pull him close.

Tony kissed him until his lips were sore and tingling. Then he pulled back, the hand on his neck sliding up to cup Steve’s jaw, thumb petting affectionately along Steve’s swollen lower lip.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I—I want to feel you. Naked.”

Tony rocked up to his feet and stood over Steve on the bed, then stripped off his clothes, eyes fixed on Steve’s face, while Steve’s wandered over the beautiful skin he revealed. When he was naked he sunk down again and worked Steve’s clothes off until he could press their bodies together, skin to skin.

Heat radiated off Tony, and Steve let his eyes slip closed for a moment, reveling in the feel of him. Lips brushed his ear and Tony whispered again, “What do you want, Steve?”

“I want you inside me,” Steve replied with growing confidence, more terrified of not getting it than of saying the blush-inducing phrase out loud.

Tony leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Steve knew if he didn’t sound sure Tony would make him wait. And he was so very sure.

Tony smiled, then reached over him to rifle through his bedside table drawer. Steve took the opportunity to run his tongue up Tony’s chest and around the curve of the arc reactor. Tony sat back on his heels, nestled between Steve’s legs.

Steve writhed in anticipation. “Relax,” Tony commanded, touching two firm fingers to Steve’s hip, pinning him to the bed. He let out a breath and his whole body sunk into the sheets.

The first press of Tony’s fingers had Steve gasping already. They worked him open slowly and gently, curling just right to make Steve see stars. Warm and demanding and so different from the feel of the plug.

Tony leaned forward over Steve, grinning down at him. “You look so wrecked already. Tell me again what you want.”

“Uh.” Steve tried to find air to suck in. “You. Inside me. Please, fuck me, Tony.”

Tony growled, low and possessive, then bent down to run his tongue along Steve’s stomach, from the crease of his hip to his belly button. His cheek teased along the length of Steve’s cock making him grit his teeth so hard he swore he heard a crack.

He whined out another, “please,” more whimper than word, and Tony finally scrambled up and eased Steve’s legs further apart. Tony fiddled with the lube some more then suddenly he was there, pressing in.

Tony was on him and around him and inside him and everything else was gone. Tony had claimed him before, with words, with his mouth, with his toys, but the feeling of him sliding into his body for the first time was enough to stop the world turning. He gripped Tony’s shoulder, breathing in with each inch, giving himself over to Tony completely.

It was too much at first and then suddenly it was just right. Tony didn’t give him much time to adjust, working up quickly into a breath-stealing rhythm while whispering an endless stream of praise into his ear. Steve braced his feet against the mattress and tipped his hips ups until he found the perfect angle and he moaned, scrabbling desperate, clawing hands along Tony’s back.

He responded by increasing the speed of his thrusts. He wrapped his slick hand around Steve’s cock and began stroking him with matching intensity. It wasn’t long before the spiral of arousal tightened into unbearable tension and Steve knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

“T—Tony,” he choked out. “So close.”

“What do you want, Steve?” Even now, even wild and breathless, Tony managed to slip that edge into his words that had Steve’s cock twitching helplessly in his grip.

“I want to see you come.” Steve could barely get the words out, Tony’s thrusts pushing the air out of his lungs.

Tony groaned and clenched his hand around Steve’s arm, squeezing hard enough that he would bruise anyone else. His rhythm stuttered as he pressed forward and came hard, his perfect face twisted in ecstasy. That look, the hand that still worked Steve’s cock relentlessly, the feeling of Tony pulsing deep inside him, it was too much and Steve tumbled over after him.

Once their breathing slowed, Tony pitched forward, burying his face in Steve’s neck. “You’re so good for me.”

Steve beamed under the praise, still coming down from his orgasm-high. Tony’s fingers furrowed their way through his hair, setting him practically purring. “Tony?”

“Mhm?”

“I want you.”

He felt Tony smile into his shoulder. “Yeah, you got me.”

Chapter Text

The first thing Steve noticed was the smell of Tony’s cologne. He nuzzled into the pillow and stretched, long and loose into Tony’s sheets. It had been fourteen days since Tony’s departure and this morning, like the last two, Steve woke up in his bed. Sadly, alone.

“Good morning Steve.”

He shot up at the sound of Tony’s voice. Heart racing, he looked around the room but found no one. A familiar chuckle and then a screen sparked to life on the darkened window. Steve fell back onto the headboard.

In a hotel across the globe, Tony sat at the foot of his own bed, shirt unbuttoned and tie hanging loose around the arc reactor. His pants were undone and his hand was running slowly up and down his cock. Steve stared.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

Steve had been half hard from the morning, but his cock twitched and hardened fully. Tony’s eyes fixed on the tent in his boxers, watching it grow, and Steve blushed at how obedient his cock was under that gaze.  

“Take off your boxers.”

Steve’s hands were on the elastic waist before he’d finished speaking. He moved to wrap his hand around his cock when he heard a tsk from Tony. His hand dropped away and he brought his gaze back to the screen. Tony’s eyes were dark. “Nah-ah, not until I say. Put your hands on the bed.” Steve did, clenching at the sheets. “Good.” Tony’s eyes were on his cock, his stare a warm caress all of its own. He wanted to lift his hips into it but knew Tony wanted him still.

“In the nightstand, there’s lube. Unless”—a smirk interrupted his words—“unless you’ve already found it.”

Steve shook his head. “I was…waiting for you.” Being in Tony’s bed was a temptation but without Tony here to tell him what to do, to touch him—it wasn’t the same. He grabbed the lube, watching Tony through hooded eyes.

“Open yourself for me.”

His cock twitched and he poured the lube onto his fingers too quickly, it spilled onto his thigh and Tony chuckled again. “So eager.” Steve moaned in agreement and he reached behind to touch at himself.

“Wait,” Tony interrupted, and Steve looked up to see him gripping the base of his own cock. “Look at you, listening to my every word, following orders while I’m continents away. You want it so badly but you stop because I say. Beautiful.” Steve warmed at the compliments, straining to stay still until Tony spoke again. “In the nightstand, second drawer this time, open it and pull out your plug. Eyes on me.”

Steve did as he was told, hand fumbling in the drawer until it found a familiar cone-shaped metal object. He pulled it out, resisting the urge to look.

“Lean back,” Tony whispered. “Let me see.”

Following Tony’s order, Steve leaned his weight back onto his elbows and brought the plug to the sensitive skin under his balls.

“You look so hot, legs spread for me. Look.” Steve’s eye flicked down to his hand and he saw the tip of the Iron Man red and gold pressing into his body. The sight of it made his hand slip, bringing the tip of the plug further into is body. “Easy,” Tony whispered from the other side of the screen. “Go nice and slow.”

Steve clenched against the tip. It looked so much larger than it ever felt inside his body. He dripped more lube on the plug before looking up at Tony. His hand had sped on his cock, the glow of the arc reactor teasing at his nipples. “Go on...” The first breach of the toy made his hips twitch into the pressure. He moaned and heard Tony mirror the sound before he started a steady stream of encouragement. “So beautiful, you listen so well.” He had to grit his teeth as the wide base of the plug slid past the tight rim and then it was in, just like last time, put there by Tony.

On screen, Tony pulled out the remote and the plug buzzed to life deep inside his body.

“Tony,” he moaned. “Feels so good.” Steve gripped the sheets as the toy moved inside of him.

“Look at me.” And Steve met his eyes again, saw as his hand blurred around his own cock and groaned.

“Please, please,” he begged, unsure what he was even begging for. He wanted Tony here in this room, in this bed, overwhelming him so easily.

“Lie back,” Tony said. “Let me see you touch yourself.” His words were heated and Steve complied with a moan. “So good. Waiting in my room for me. I want you there every night, right where I can find you—” Tony broke off, gasping as his hand twisted and Steve matched it. “Mine, right Steve?”

He nodded, hand matching Tony’s pace, the toy driving him mad. “Yes,” he puffed the word out in a breath. The toy twisted against his prostate until Steve was coming across his chest. He watched as Tony fell apart after him, streaks of come hitting the arc reactor and Steve wanted to crawl through the screen and lick them off but instead he fell back against Tony’s bed and chuckled. “Something funny?” Tony asked.

He felt lighter than air, better than he had since Tony had left. He shook his head against Tony’s pillow. “Feeling pretty funny myself.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Steve leaned up on his elbows, watched as Tony wiped at his arc reactor with a tissue before meeting his gaze. “You should,” he paused. “When will you be back?”

Tony’s hand paused. He looked up and met Steve’s gaze. “Soon,” a beat, then, “I miss you.”

Steve grinned, sheepish as he gestured at Tony’s bed. “Me too.”

“You look good there,” Tony assured. “I meant it, stay there while I’m away.”

Steve blushed, nodding. “I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

It had been 22 days, 14 hours, and 37 minutes since Tony last had his hands on Captain America.

Not that he was counting.

And now he was back in New York. He had two days off work. He was hornier than he’d ever been in his life - it had been torture, knowing what was waiting for him here.

And Steve was out taking photos with fans.

Tony leaned against the car, sharp eyes finding Steve across the park. He was laughing and talking with a group of excited young people—mostly girls with hearts for eyes. He encouraged them to snap picture after picture, smiling broadly every time.

Steve photographed so well. Especially when he was naked, hard, and sprawled out on Tony’s rug. Tony shifted as his pants tightened uncomfortably, holding his folded suit jacket in front of him strategically.

Steve’s thin, cotton t-shirt was too tight and Tony’s eyes traced the lines of his abs, memory providing images of the rest of what was hidden by his clothes. His hands twitched, wanting to grip those hips, press against that chest, push and guide and grab.

And Steve would just go—let himself be manhandled by Tony.

He wondered what Steve would do if Tony just shoved him down here, in the middle of the park. Or if he sent him a dirty message—they’d traded enough texts while Tony was gone. He could text him “drop” and see what he would do.

Steve would pull out his phone, read it, and his knees would hit the pavement without hesitation. He’d look around—his eyes would find Tony easily in this crowd. Those eyes. Steve didn’t even know what he gave up with those eyes, gazing hazily at Tony through thick eyelashes.

Tony looked away and took a few breaths, willing his rapidly hardening cock to wait a fucking minute. But at the same time, he was sinking into wild desperation. There were so many things he wanted to do to that man and he didn’t know how long he would have to do them, how long this would last.

Stretched out, hands bound behind his back. What a sight that would be.

He could keep him on his knees at his desk while he worked, ready to suck him off whenever he wanted.

He had plans for the plug, for the cuffs, for Steve’s mouth and ass and cock and back and neck and how those eyes would look up at him.

He couldn’t wait. Fuck the fans—he needed Steve. He marched across the park and sidled up next to him. Steve was laughing, telling a story about something. The second Tony saw an opening he grabbed the grinning Steve by the arm, apologized loudly to the group, and started dragging him back towards the car. Once free, he pulled him close so he could hiss in his ear, “I need to fuck you.”

Steve’s grin vanished as his mouth fell open with a sharp inhale. His eyes widened in shock, his cheeks ignited, and his step faltered. Tony held him up with the death-grip on his bicep. “As soon as we walk through that door I want you naked and begging. You’d better be on your hands and knees and getting yourself ready for me before I even have my shoes off.”

He watched those beautiful, blue eyes slip into the soft, passive place that made Tony’s heart want to burst. He went down so fast and so well for Tony. It was gorgeous. “God, you’re so fucking perfect. Always ready and willing, aching to be told what to do. I’m going to keep you.” He swallowed the forever that threatened to spill out. “I’m going to fuck you right there on the front hall rug and you’re going to take it, cause you’re so good for me, Steve. You’re always so good.”

Steve shot him a hazy smile, tripping over his feet again in his haste to get to the car. Tony bustled him into the passenger seat then scrambled around to the other side, cursing his past self for choosing to drive, over a town car with a driver and a large backseat.

He took a second to grip the steering wheel and breathe, then glanced over at Steve. He was smiling still, slumped loosely in his seat, one hand resting lazily on his crotch. And his eyes were fixed on Tony, staring at him as if nothing else in the world existed.

Chapter Text

Steve had woken to lips trailing along his spine, and he couldn’t quite shake the sensation even now, hours after it had passed. The morning had brought with it restrained wrists in serum-proof leather, Tony’s hand twisting in a teasing pleasure, falling over the edge, into the place where everything was warm and Tony.

He had never woken in bondage before.Tony had been so close, hands dancing along his skin, and Steve was unable to move, able to give in, because Tony had engineered a way to bind him.

And now they were hungry. Or at least Tony was. Steve felt content to follow him into the elevator, brush his forehead into the dip of Tony’s neck and revel in the weight of Tony’s arms around his body. “Why are we in the elevator?” he thought aloud, but didn’t really care much for the answer. It was warm and he could still feel sparks of pleasure against his wrists every time his shirt sleeves brushed against them.

“You’re adorable like this,” Tony commented, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “So lax, so affectionate, that space where—”

Ding

Steve never found out about the space, because the elevator doors opened to the common floor. Which had food. Food Tony wanted and that he had said Steve needed.

He hadn’t expected Bruce and Natasha sipping tea at the table, or Clint on the sofa with a video game controller. Steve turned into Tony on instinct, even though he knew the others didn’t know about them, that he shouldn’t stand this close or hold his hand.

Tony dropped his hand, moved it to the small of Steve’s back, nudging him out of the elevator. The others stared at them; their pajama pants and sleep shirts were a dead giveaway. It was more than obvious at this time in the morning, and from how close they were standing. It was impossible for anyone to think anything else.

But Tony had dropped his hand. He had been so close and so warm and now he was walking away. He had liked their closeness in the elevator, but maybe things were different now that they were with the others. Maybe Tony liked him lax and affectionate but only when they were alone, in that space. He never said, they’d never discussed—

A sure grip on his bicep turned Steve. It wasn’t until then that he realized he had been following Tony, that they had reached the kitchen, and Tony had turned to face him.

“Hey there,” Tony’s words were close and calm, his hands came up to rub against his arms. Steve started to warm again, started to push away the spiral of uncertainty, because Tony was close and Tony was calm, and that was all that mattered. “We had to tell them somehow,” Tony continued, more words that were supposed to reassure him. Except, he had no idea what they would tell the others. Not...everything, right? “I had no intentions of hiding us away.”

Tony’s eyes fell to Steve’s lips and even through his uncertainty he felt his cheeks flush. With his back to the others, he could still feel their presence, but his body seemed to respond to Tony no matter what, when he looked at his lips like that. “Sound good to you?” Tony asked and Steve watched the words as they formed on his lips.

And he wanted to be good, wanted to stay in the warmth, find that space again that was just Tony and sparks of pleasure, so he nodded. “Yes, Tony.” And he let him bring their lips together, right there in front of everyone.

Chapter Text

Bruce:

Tony and Steve tumbled out of the elevator in rumpled sleep clothes, hair standing on end. Bruce shot a quick glance at Natasha, who smiled. It was about time for those two. They’d been making moon eyes at each other for what seemed like ages.

Tony led the way into the kitchen, flicking his gaze over to meet Bruce’s for a second. Bruce tried to give him an encouraging smile. It was nice to see Tony happy.

When Bruce really looked, he realized how much Tony had changed over the last few weeks; it must be because of Steve. Tony stood taller, walked easier. He looked better rested, better fed, and had distinctly less motor oil on him than usual. Steve stuck to him like glue. They stood, hip-to-hip in the kitchen, whispering together.

Bruce realized he was staring and dropped his eyes to his paper, feeling the back of his neck heat in embarrassment. When he flicked them up again, Tony glanced over at him and gave him a little nod, which he returned.

Bruce had the fleeting worry that it would be hard on the team if this went south, but pushed it away. No sense obsessing over the might-bes. It was nice to see his friends happy and Steve would be good for Tony.

He looked up again and Tony was grinning down at his toast, while Steve grinned over it at Tony. They would be good for each other.

Natasha:

Tony padded into the kitchen, trailing Steve in his wake. They had clearly just been thoroughly enjoying themselves. Nat smirked and shot a look to Bruce, who smiled back. Steve looked like he was barely aware of which end of the room was up. Stark must be as good as that Yelp review from the entire Eagles’ cheerleading team suggested. It was nice to see Steve so relaxed.

Very relaxed.

She tipped her head in curiosity, watching. Tony caught Steve’s arm and then his gaze, whispering something to him. Steve gazed up at him in open adoration, paying no attention to rest of the room.

She’d seen that look before: that boy was down, hard.

It shouldn’t be that surprising, really. Stark was obviously up for anything, but she wouldn’t have thought it of Steve. But leading the team had to be emotionally exhausting, giving up that power would feel amazing.

Being in control of that power would be amazing too...

Tony bent down to kiss Steve solidly on the lips and he smiled dopily at him, leaning into his chest. Adorable.

Tony flicked his eyes up, first to Bruce and then to Nat. Nat raised an eyebrow and smiled and Tony visibly relaxed, holding Steve against him. He shot another look over her head to where Clint sat on the couch, then turned his focus back to the food in front of him, and Steve.

Yes, having Steve Rogers wrapped around your finger would be an interesting experience indeed. Nat picked her book back up, entertaining a brief fantasy of watching Tony put Steve on his knees.

Tony Stark was a lucky man. He better be treating Rogers right.

Clint:

Clint heard the elevator doors open and looked up to see Tony and Steve amble in, still in pajamas, clinging to each other. Well, shit. He wasn’t expecting that. Not the two of them together, and not this early in the morning.

He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, gripping the controller.

The pair stood close together in the kitchen, Tony’s hand wrapped around Steve’s arm.

God, this was awkward, but if he stood up and left now, it would draw everyone’s attention to him. Someone might ask him what was wrong and that was not a conversation he wanted to have.

Clint slid down on the couch, wishing he could ask JARVIS to lower the volume on the TV with his mind. Why hadn’t he stayed in his own room to play?

He risked another look over at Tony and Steve.

They were kissing.

Oh, thank god. That was the perfect distraction.

Maybe now Tony wouldn’t notice he was playing the still-in-development game he’d expressly told Clint not to touch.

Clint needed JARVIS to start giving him some sort of secret warning signal or something.

Chapter Text

The sun shone through the window, it was midafternoon and Steve Rogers was horny. He had woken with Tony, forced him to take a muffin with his to-go coffee, and now he was here, sitting in the penthouse living room alone—what was that quote about idle hands? Steve looked at the tablet on the coffee table, thought of looking up the quote but the energy coursing through his veins led to a few different clicks on the keyboard.

Porn. A modern marvel, or so Clint (and Nat and Tony and once, blushing, Bruce) had informed him. It was easy enough to find but as he scrolled past the thumbnails of nameless men and women, none of it caught his eye, none of it pushed his buttons the way thinking of Tony did.

And then he had an idea.

“Hey, JARVIS?” he asked the empty room.

“Captain?”

“Um, well.” He thought he could continue the sentence but his face heated and the words caught in his throat.

“Is there something you need assistance with?”

And maybe it was the tone, the one that an AI shouldn’t be able to replicate, but it sounded like JARVIS knew what he wanted to ask, and that somehow made this easier. “Is there any footage of, um, us? Tony and me? You know...being…”

“...Intimate?”

Steve let out a shaky breath. “Yes, that.”

JARVIS answered by displaying a series of thumbnails on the tablet, rows and rows of Tony and himself, frozen in place in various positions.

The first was obviously from the photoshoot Tony insisted on when he bought a new camera. He flushed at the memory, looking at himself naked and covered in the evidence of Tony’s pleasure, spread on the same carpet that lay at his feet now. Next was another from the penthouse, the bedroom this time. Steve’s hands were tied together and Tony was shirtless, standing over him. Under that was a third, different from the others, because the thumbnail was a series of images. It was entitled: “Kneeling Compilation.”

“JARVIS, does Tony—did he—am I the first person to access these videos?”

“These files are limited to both you and Mr. Stark alone; you are not the first person to access them.”

“Oh.”

Something about the fact that Tony had gone through these, had even created his own compilations, spurred him into action. “JARVIS, restrict access to the penthouse,” he said as he unbuckled his pants, already half-hard, and he just kept scrolling.

There was another compilation of facials, then a forty minute video of the first time Tony put the serum-proof, leather bondage on him. Fuck. He didn’t know which to pick. So many options. He clicked one at random.

The video started, and Steve stroked one long satisfying twist of his hand as he heard Tony’s voice ring out from the tablet.

“By my side and bound to my wrist...Kneel there, while I think about what I want to do with you.” Tony’s grip tightened and Steve groaned.

“Yes, Tony.”

His voice sounded wrecked. His hand sped around his cock, as he watched Tony let go of his hair. On screen, his eyes were hazy, following Tony as if more than a metal chain connected them. Tony pulled at the chain between their wrists, until Steve was forced onto all fours. The move had dragged a moan from him then, and he matched it now, gripping the base of his cock when he saw the want in Tony’s eyes.

“Presenting your ass in the air for me? Your obedience is so beautiful.”

At the time, a jolt of humiliation had gone through him; now, he could see the way his body leaned into the words, legs spreading, inviting Tony to take him however he chose. It was heady, the trust he had for Tony, and it spurred his hand just as much as the images on screen.

He knew what was coming but he still gasped when Tony fell to his knees behind him, spread him apart. Only this time, he could see the devious tilt to Tony’s smile, the way he took a moment to observe Steve’s waiting hole. The heat in his eyes right before he blew onto Steve’s sensitive skin.

His cock jerked in his hand and as Tony leaned forward, he could almost feel the phantom swipe of a tongue licking him open for the first time.

“Damn,” Steve swore, hand speeding up as his own moans echoed throughout the penthouse. Words he hadn’t even remembered saying, a litany of begging and promises and falling apart from Tony’s talented hands and wicked tongue.

He wasn’t going to last much longer, either now or on screen. Then the camera angle shifted until Steve had the perfect view of Tony’s hand coming up to wrap around his own cock. One stroke, then another, and Tony was falling over the edge. His other hand came up to grip Steve’s hip, brushing metal against his skin. Steve watched and remembered and felt it all again, rushing through him as he tumbled after the Tony on screen.

Then he heard a throat clearing behind him.

The tablet definitely cracked against the floor as he turned around to look behind the sofa. Tony stood there, arms crossed and smirk half-cocked. “Tony! I, uh—”

“JARVIS may’ve forgotten to mention to you, there’s an alert protocol for when those particular files are accessed.” His eyes were dark, sliding over Steve and pausing where his hand was still wrapped around his cock. Steve’s own eyes dropped to the significant tent in Tony’s pants, before meeting his gaze.

Tony turned, walking towards the bedroom. “Follow me,” he ordered.

Chapter Text

Steve struggled against the binding leather around his wrists—not because he wanted to break free, but because he needed to know that he couldn’t. There was no give at all.

He shifted on the balls of his feet as Tony circled him, brushing light fingers over his bound hands. He came to stand in front of Steve, eyeing up his naked body with open hunger. Steve took a deep breath in and let his eyes drift shut, his arms relaxing behind his back. Tony was in control now; he didn’t have to think, he didn’t have to move, he didn’t have to want, until Tony told him to.

Soft hands brushed over his chest, down to his waist and back up to wrap around behind his neck. He let Tony pull him in for a gentle kiss, the coarse fabric of his jeans a harsh nip against his bare skin.

Tony’s voice was soft, simple, and commanding. “You’re going to do what I ask.”

“Yes.” It didn’t seem to come from his mouth, it came from somewhere else, far away.

“Yes, what?” Tony snapped, shooting a jolt of adrenaline through Steve’s core. His eyes sprung open and his cheeks heated. Tony pinned him with a firm gaze.

“Yes, Tony.”

Tony swallowed hard, eyes flicking to Steve’s mouth. “Damn, how do you make that sound so…” His hands resumed their gentle strokes across Steve’s skin. Steve felt keyed up and peaceful at the same time—so turned on it was painful, but certain he could stay like that forever. His eyes drooped shut again.

He didn’t know how long Tony petted him and he didn’t care, but when those hands gently spun him around and guided him across the room, he let out a shaky sigh. Tony gripped the strap between the cuffs, his palm brushing against Steve’s fingers, and steered him to the bed.

When the front of Steve’s thighs hit the edge of the bed, Tony crowded up behind him. He could feel him pressing against every inch of him, from his bare feet, to the erection rubbing against his ass, to warm lips on the back of his neck.

“You okay?” Tony asked quietly.

“Yes, Tony.” The words tumbled out more eager, more desperate than Steve expected. His cock throbbed as Tony trailed his hands teasingly over his skin. One went to his hip, the other, between his shoulder blades. Tony bent him down, firmly but carefully, until Steve was facedown on the mattress, bent over at the waist. He squirmed on the sheets, curling and uncurling his toes in the carpet. Tony’s bed was high, but he still had to brace himself with his feet to keep from sliding down and it was just this side of uncomfortable.

And then the hands were gone. He was left lying there, exposed. There was a rustle of clothing behind him. He waited but Tony didn’t make a sound, didn’t touch him, didn’t issue a command.

His skin heated again as he thought about what it would look like to Tony, what Tony might be doing—was he just standing there, staring? Steve couldn’t help wondering what it would look like on the recordings. He twisted his wrists in the cuffs again, thrilling at the unforgiving hold of the reinforced leather.

It was just verging on too long, he was about to give in and look behind him, when Tony’s hand slid up his back to furrow in his hair. He let out a long breath and sunk into the sheets. The hand drifted back down to Steve’s bound hands, grabbing the strap again, applying the lightest pressure.

Tony’s other hand glided over his hip and down into the sensitive skin of his ass. His slick finger slid in easily, sending rolling waves of gentle pleasure up Steve’s spine. He was floating, lost in timeless bliss as Tony worked him loose. The smooth slide of Tony’s fingers and the firm grip on his bound hands was all he could think about. He buried his face in the sheets and breathed.

A sharp crack echoed through the room and stinging pain erupted across his backside. Steve jumped, yelped, then groaned as Tony smoothed his hand over the sore spot. The sudden rush of heat pulled him up out of himself and into the present as Tony pulled his fingers away and pressed his cock to Steve’s hole.

The smooth roll of Tony’s hips, stretching Steve as he pushed into him, sent him back down, even deeper into the haze. He was gasping, panting, moaning, drooling onto the sheets where his face pressed against them. His pleasure built slowly, lacking urgency but desperate at the same time. Everything was Tony in that moment and the moment went on forever.

Tony pulled on the cuffs again, hard this time, and it was like an electric shock straight to Steve’s dick. He cried out and came, spilling over the sheets, and then he was gone. Gravity gave up on him entirely as he drifted in space, his only tether Tony’s hands gripping his hips. He was vaguely aware of Tony chasing his own release, pulsing inside him.

He barely felt Tony’s hands unclasping the bindings, stroking his wrists, easing the tension out of his shoulders. He barely heard him whispering words of praise in his ear, hushing him to sleep.

He just floated.

Chapter Text

Chapter One

Tony ran his tongue up the inside of Steve’s thigh, making him shiver. Steve leaned back on the cool sheets, closing his eyes and focusing on the mouth and hands that explored him. Another lazy afternoon in the penthouse had inevitably led to discarded clothes.

“Tony…” he murmured, and Tony chuckled.

Then the alarm went off.

“Shit!” They both leapt out of bed, throwing on whatever they could find. Tony stopped Steve halfway out the door and pressed him against the wall, slipping a filthy tongue into his mouth. “Just when things were getting interesting.”

Steve laughed. “Things are always interesting with you, Tony.”

The team hit the ground running, splitting into pairs—Steve with Nat—to take on the swarm of Doombots that were rushing downtown Manhattan.

After several minutes of Doombot containment, Steve heard Tony’s fierce voice over his comm. He thought they were muted, but Tony must have switched his to a private channel with Steve by mistake. It was clear that his words were only meant for the ears of the SHIELD agent he was currently growling at.

“I don’t care what your CO ‘might say,’ you’re going to listen to me because I am Iron Man and I say so. I need you to move those barriers back. Now.” There was a tense pause. “Right now.”

It was like he was whispering directly into Steve’s ear. He flashed back to Tony above, around and inside him. Holding him down, taking all his power away until he could float and be whatever Tony wanted.

He wanted that so badly.

It was like going underwater in a dream. Steve didn’t have to hold his breath—he didn’t have to breathe at all. He just slipped below the surface.

And then a metal fist connected with his face.

He hadn’t seen the Doombot coming and now he was crumpled against a brick wall while mortar dust settled around him. He looked up to see the Doombot advancing. Panic surged up and twisted with the soft, floaty feeling he still hadn’t shaken. Then a pair of leather-clad legs appeared around its neck and Black Widow sent 2000 volts straight through its wiring with her bites. It collapsed on the ground and she landed deftly beside it.

Steve couldn’t stand, he felt fuzzy and confused. Where was Tony? Nat’s face appeared in his line of vision, confused. “Hey, Cap, you alright?”

He blinked at her. “Where’s Tony?” His voice sounded weird even to him.

She observed him clinically for a moment. “Steve were you with Tony when we got the call to assemble?” She ran a gentle hand along his cheek and he leaned into it.

“Yeah.”

She was on her comm in an instant. “Iron Man, come here now. Cap’s hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he tried to assure her, but she’d turned away. Only seconds later, Tony hit the ground hard, sending up a spray of dirt as he slid to a halt on the sidewalk. His faceplate flipped back and he rushed forward to Steve. He looked so worried. Steve smiled, Tony was so beautiful.

“What’s wrong?” Tony snapped out, running his hands over Steve in panic, but Natasha reached out and stilled them.

“Turn off your comm,” she hissed at him and he reared back.

“Why, what are you going to do to me?”

“Well, I assume you don’t want all of SHIELD knowing the sordid details of your sex life.” Tony reached up and switched off his comm. “You were together when the call came in, right? A nod will do! I don’t need to know any more than that please,” she added hurriedly. Tony nodded and she sighed. “Tony, c’mon, you can’t send him out in the field like this.”

“I didn’t!” Tony protested. “He was fine when we left. We’d barely, um, started.” Nat rolled her eyes with exasperated affection and Tony turned back to Steve. “Steve, what happened?”

“I don’t know.” Steve tried to clear his head enough to describe it. “You were talking to that agent, I heard you over the comm, and then I got hit.”

Nat and Tony stared at him and he stared back. Nat turned to Tony. “What were you saying?”

Tony blushed. “I was, uh, I was reaming out that idiot with the stupid hair for moving the barriers too close on the west side.”

“Shit, Stark. Did you put him into subspace by yelling at someone else?” Natasha sounded equal parts incredulous and impressed.

Tony shuffled uncomfortably, then ran his hand through Steve’s hair. God, it felt good to have him here. “He’s really easy.” Steve frowned, confused, and Tony shot him a smile. “Really good, you’re really good for me, Steve. I’m going to get you home.”

“Ok.” He went up easily into Tony’s arms, wishing he was feeling his bare skin instead of the smooth metal of the armour. Nat whispered something to Tony that Steve didn’t hear and then they were off, rushing through the sky.

The cool air whipping around his face seemed to clear the last of the cobwebs from Steve’s mind and he was feeling much more himself by the time they hit the landing pad at the penthouse. He thought back over what had happened and blushed hot when he realized just how much Nat must have figured out about their relationship.

Tony fussed over him, peeling him out of his uniform and bustling him into bed. “I'm fine now, really. I just got a bit dazed,” Steve insisted. He wasn’t actually completely sure what had happened, but his quick healing had already set him right again.

Tony looked at him, pained. “Humor me, okay?

Steve rolled his eyes, but climbed into bed and spread out on the sheets. He opened his arms invitingly, but Tony shook his head.

“I need a minute. I'll be right back. You need anything?”

“I'm fine.”

Steve had almost drifted off by the time Tony came back in, with a bottle of water he handed to Steve. He looked worried, but when Steve frowned, Tony shot him a reassuring smile. Instead of joining him in bed, Tony sat on the floor, his back against the mattress. Steve let his hand hang down and Tony took it and kissed it. “Steve, I made a mistake.”

Chapter Two

Mistake.

Bang; and with every clang of his mallet against metal, Tony remembered. “I want other things too,”  he had whispered what seemed like forever ago. “I want to do so much with you. Kiss you and touch you, whenever and wherever I want.”  

The mallet struck against the anvil, ringing pain up his arm. He could have explained more then, words that would’ve separated their...play from everything else.

Bang. But then (and now, he reminded himself) Tony had loved their time together too much to think straight. He wanted Steve all the time, in any way Steve chose to be. So he had kept falling into the pleasures of Steve, of him and Steve together, without seeing.

“Steve, if you don’t tell me what went wrong, I can’t protect you from it happening again.”

Protect. He dropped the mallet, let the clash of metal on metal fill his workshop.

“Hey now. It’s okay to ask for things you want, you know.”  But what if Steve didn't know how to ask? Tony knew how fast he went down, saw the haze in his eyes and the slack in his smile. The warmth he radiated that burned the cold out of Tony’s darkest corners. Steve was bright and beautiful. Steve was his.

He looked down on the anvil, where a string of metal cooled next to his mallet.

“Steve, I made a mistake.”

Fingers gripped into Tony’s hair in reply, and Steve brought his warmth with him as he slid from their bed onto the floor next to Tony. He was soft with sleep, nuzzling into the crux of Tony’s neck and he wondered, not for the first time, what he had done to deserve someone as wonderful as Steve.

His fist clenched underneath Steve’s fingers, and their eyes only met because Steve reached over and turned his chin. “So, let’s fix it.”

Tony turned into the curve of Steve’s chest to take a steadying breath, before pulling back to meet intent, blue eyes. “Yes, Steve.” He could hear his words shudder with a each breath. “Yes. We’ll fix it. God. You’re perfect.”

Steve’s smile crooked at the word. “So you keep saying,” he whispered before closing the space between them with a kiss.

The vibranium, the last remains that Stark Industries hid away, turned into something beautiful. The cords of leather, red and gold, intertwined around a chain so delicate, so strong.

It reminded him of Steve.

“You fall so beautifully.”  He broke away from the kiss to see Steve nodding in agreement.

“When I’m with you it’s so easy to let go. One word and I’m—I don’t—” Steve breathed. “I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t. But what happened today.” Protect. Protect. “It can’t happen again.”

“I know.” Steve had wrapped them in the blanket from their bed and now he picked at the threading. “I need something,” he began. “Something that will let me know—When I’m with you it's so easy to float under your control, to give in, because I know. I know you have me.” He caught Tony’s gaze and in his eyes he could see the desire there, his memories alone were all he needed to start falling under again. “I need something,” he continued with a swallow, the movement causing the cords of his neck to shift. “I need something to ground me.” Tony nodded, finger reaching for Steve, for the pulse that danced at the base of his neck.

“I know,” Tony reached around, gripping the back of Steve’s neck, connecting their gaze. “I know what you need.”

Tony found Steve curled up, back to him, in their bed. The wooden box felt heavy in his hands as Tony kneed onto the mattress, dipping it with his weight. He caught sight of the well-worn paperback in Steve’s hands. “You’re awake?” he asked, and Steve unfurled, setting aside his book and sitting up. Tony could easily read the expectation on his face.

“Hard to sleep when you ran out of here to find a cure for my, what did you call it?  Narcoleptic-subspace.” He smiled and Tony met it with a smile of his own and then Steve’s eyes fell to the box in his hands.

Tony tried not to grip too hard. There were things he needed to say, important things, that would allow Steve to understand what he was doing here, how much this meant to him. “I first considered the possibility of this, of us, when you couldn’t keep your eye off the Iron Man suitcase.” One line in and Steve was already blushing. A beautiful sight that was enough to distract, usually would, but today he pushed through the words. “It was connected to my wrist by a metal chain and you, well...you looked at it with such envy it stopped me in my tracks.”

With a deep breath, he handed over the box and watched as Steve traced his hands over the wood before returning his focus to Tony. “What is it?”

“Open it.”

Steve obeyed, lifting the lid of the box until he could see the collar inside.

Tony watched his eyes widen, lips part with a mix of surprise and awe. And when he looked up at Tony, he was flushed and eager, and Tony knew he had made the right choice.

“You’re mine,” he spoke low into the space between them. “And I’m yours.”

Steve bit his lip and nodded, eyes torn between Tony and the collar.

“Hand it to me.”

Steve’s fingers fumbled over it, pulling it from the wood. He held it out and Tony had to tug a little to get it out of Steve’s grip. “Do you know what this is?”

Another blush and Steve nodded, then pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Maybe?”

Tony couldn’t help himself, he tilted his head down for a quick, heated kiss before forcing himself to pull away and explain. “This is a collar.” He undid the buckle, holding the leather and metal out for Steve to see. “I made it for you to help ground you, so I can keep you safe, which is my responsibility if you're going to trust me with this. When the collar is on that means that you can float, drift. I can protect you; and when it is off, you remain in control. Do you want that?”

Steve tilted his head, bearing his neck to Tony, beautiful in his submission. Protect. “Yes. Tony, yes.”

The words hit him like a lightning bolt, landing in the back of his chest behind the arc reactor. The collar in his hands, it hardly seemed like enough now but it was everything he had. He wrapped it around Steve’s neck, fitting it loose but secure. Held. Steve was on his way there, eyes glossing over and grin slack with pleasure.

“Mine,” Tony whispered. And Steve beamed, tumbling forward and connecting them with a kiss.

Chapter Text

He woke to a trail of kisses along his lower back, Tony's hands sliding across his skin, “Beautiful,” murmured into the dip of his spine and goosebumps emanated from the spot, shivering down between his thighs.  

He tried to turn over, wanting more, but hands stilled his hips. “Stay,” Tony ordered, before spreading his ass to lick over the sensitive, puckered skin. Steve groaned, nuzzling his face into his pillow as Tony teased him with his tongue.

“I have to go,” Tony whispered, and before Steve could react, teeth bit into the ample cheek of his ass, and Tony contradicted his own words by sliding a well-lubed finger into his ass and saying, “Put on your collar.”

Steve moaned at the command, groping blindly on the nightstand and even though he preferred Tony to put it on, to claim him and center him, Steve secured it around his own throat because Tony told him to. Tony reached a hand up to grip the collar, and Steve relaxed under the pressure of it all.

“Fuck, Steve. I have to—” Tony bent over, tongue pulling at his rim. Steve arched into it when Tony fully breached him with his finger, twisting to find that space inside that never failed to alight him with pleasure. Tony’s other hand gripped into his hip hard as he shifted, and Steve looked over his shoulder to see him naked and flushed and hard, hand on his cock, dragging it around Steve’s hole. He caught Steve’s eye then his eyelids drooped almost immediately with a moan of his own. Steve flushed with pride, and pushed his body into Tony because he was Tony’s, and Tony wanted him.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Tony growled, another finger entering and stretching. He bent over and tugged at the collar around Steve’s neck. When Tony spoke again, his breath puffed against Steve’s ear. “So much to do today, meetings and deadlines, and I can’t even get out of bed without fucking you.” He slid in then, just the tip, and they both moaned in unison before Tony continued his onslaught. “I want to fuck you all day. Have you here—waiting for me. Tied to the bed with your collar on, open and filthy.”

The thought sparked behind Steve’s closed eyes, and blood rushed to his cock. The idea of waiting here, in this state, in whatever state Tony left him. Shame flooded him followed quickly by desire, as Tony bit at his collar.

Steve whined, nodding, and then Tony pulled out and came. Hot spurts landed across Steve’s hole, against the small of his back. Tony slumped onto his back, his rough hand reaching around, and Steve came to the feeling of Tony’s hand and his body rubbing his cum into Steve’s skin.

Steve floated, even as Tony pulled away, his hands running up Steve’s back to stroke through his hair. “Hey,” he heard Tony whisper, turning his head to see him crouching by the bedside. The serum-proof leather cuffs in his hand. The words from earlier circled in Steve’s mind and he could easily read the question on Tony’s face. An offer, not an order. Steve held out his hands. Tony’s eyes danced as he slipped the cuffs around his wrists. He made sure a water glass, Steve’s phone, and his sketchbook were within arm's reach before crouching back down next to Steve. His finger traced the collar, eyes heated, and Steve was distracted by the long expanse of naked skin, but also content to close his eyes when Tony told him too.

Time passed.

The only reason Steve woke was because a weight shifted on the bed. Tony. He felt a fingernail pick at something on his back. Tony’s come from earlier. The memory, the evidence of it—he warmed, stretching into the hand as it caressed his back. “Tony.”

“Shh,” Tony whispered into the dark room. He heard the unbuckling of pants, and he stretched into the sheets as he waited for Tony, relishing the cool satin on his naked thighs and hardening cock. The mattress shifted again and Tony walked around to the side of his bed, cock in his hand, then positioned it in front of Steve’s mouth. “Open up.”

Steve obeyed. He tasted a swipe of precum along his tongue and then Tony was pushing further into his mouth. Above him, tension drained out of Tony with each thrust. The angle was tough but it only made Steve want to try harder, to twist his tongue along the tip of Tony’s cock, to relax his jaw so the next stroke hit the back of his throat.

“Fuck, Steve. Sitting in that meeting was torture; knowing you were here for me, waiting for me, covered in my cum and tied to our bed—Fuck, I’m not going to last long. Steve, so good,” he moaned, and then he was coming thick beads of cum down his throat. Steve held Tony’s cock in his mouth, sucking lightly as he nursed the final drop, until Tony pulled out and wiped his spent cock along Steve’s cheek.

Between panting breaths, Tony’s hand reached into the dip of the bed, feeling for his cock as he thrusted it against sheets. The hand closed into a fist around the base.

“It’s a long day. Only noon.” The pressure along the base of his cock centered him, his whole focus now on Tony, his cock under Tony’s control. “Think you can wait? Next meeting ends at two and I want you hard and begging, desperate to come.

“My come's all over you. No one else's, not even your own, unless I say.” His body tried to grow harder under Tony’s hand but the pressure remained. “Do you think you can wait?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Good. Steve, so good.”

When Tony’s hand released his cock, the pressure was still there deep inside his groin, but it was easy to ignore, when Tony asked him to.

The bedroom door shut again.

Steve waited.

Chapter Text

Steve had spent the first fifteen minutes waiting, dreading, yearning for Tony to hit the button, and so far he had not. He hadn’t heard a word Tony said throughout his entire presentation, though the hums and gasps of the audience suggested it was groundbreaking science.

They probably all thought it was a laser pointer clutched in his right hand. All except Steve.

Tony’s eyes brushed over Steve’s front row seat several times, but not once had they paused. Though he clearly held the remote in his hand, not once had he switched it on.

Steve shifted in his seat, feeling the plug inside him. He wanted to rock into the sensation, but he held still. On stage, Tony pointed out at the audience with his left hand and rolled the remote in his right. Steve tensed. Nothing came.

Looking for something to ground himself, he slid his hand into his jacket pocket and wound his fingers into the collar tucked up at the bottom. The feel of the leather and smooth, metal chain reminded him that Tony had him. He could give in to the sensation. Not all the way - he was still in a room full of people - but the tight bundle of nerves and arousal and restlessness that lumped heavily in the bottom of his stomach gave way a little with the collar in his hand.

Tony had him. Tony would give him what he needed, when he was ready.

He needed so badly.

Steve let himself sink, drift away. His breathing slowed, his body felt heavy, slumped into the velvet theatre seat. The audience became a low buzz behind him, barely noticeable.

All he could see was Tony. He glowed under a brilliant spotlight. He claimed the stage, the room, Steve, with every word, every gesture.

And then Tony's gaze dropped from the back of the crowd and settled heavily on Steve.

And the plug jumped to life.

Steve bit back a moan, shifting it into a harsh gasp of breath instead. He had no idea if he had drawn the attention of those near him; he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tony.

The vibration subsided again, and Steve pressed his hands to his thighs to keep from thrusting up out of his seat. He spread his fingers wide and imagined they were Tony's hands on him, that Tony sat behind him, legs wrapped around Steve's hips, lips to his ear. How he would whisper, “God, you want it so bad, don't you? You're incredible.”

As if he could read Steve's mind, the real Tony on stage took that moment to kick up the power of the plug once again, and Steve choked on air. His body thrummed with the power pressed against his prostate. He was so hard it nearly hurt, and his cock leaked copious precum, trapped against his thigh.

The vibration surged to a crescendo, and Tony was Steve’s conductor. Directing a symphony of secret pleasure inside him with every tiny movement of his thumb. Steve’s breathing shallowed. He shuffled in his seat and managed to cant his hips, just so. Electric shocks jolted through his core and he bit his cheek to tamp down a groan.

As the speech went on, the intensity of the vibrations ebbed and flowed. At times it swelled to such a fierce peak that Steve was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold his cries back, and then, just when it became too much, it faded again. He watched as Tony’s fingers slid over the remote, controlling it in subtle ways Steve didn’t understand. Tony’s voice didn’t falter and his movement across the stage remained natural. But now his eyes kept falling to Steve, kept hitching in their path across the room, and when they did still, only for a second, they bore into him.

His cock throbbed and he longed to touch it, to at least press his palm against it. Tony was pushing him unrelentingly now. Steve was sure he could somehow tell how close his was. The vibration no longer eased off, instead it ramped up steadily, setting all of Steve’s nerves alight. He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. His eyes were still fixed on Tony. Nothing but Tony.

On stage, Tony planted his feet, tucked his hands in his pockets, and concluded his speech. His eyes swept once across the audience then settled on Steve, and for the first time that night Steve could feel the full force of his undivided attention. His eyes were dark, strong, commanding, and fixed entirely on Steve as if the rest of the room was irrelevant.

The crowd surged into applause, most rising to their feet, but Steve was pinned to his chair by Tony’s stare. The plug’s assault built and built, torturing his prostate, rippling through his nerves. His eyes were wet, his hands gripped the fabric of his pants hard enough to tear. And when the crowd’s cheering reached its peak, Tony cranked up the intensity to its maximum and gave Steve a short, sharp nod.

And he broke.

He came hard, so hard that for a moment he lost all senses save for deep, gut-twisting touch. He throbbed in his underwear, the vibrator milking pulse after pulse of hot come out of him without a touch on his rock-hard cock. His skin ignited, a wildfire of shame ripping its way across his cheeks and neck, intertwining with the intense pleasure the vibrator was still forcing out of him.

He allowed himself a grunt into his closed fist, covering it as a cough, unheard in the din of the appreciative audience. The plug stilled inside him, and he found a breath again, the overwhelming sensations wracking through him starting to fade. He shivered as his body remembered a phantom echo of the tortuous vibration, relieved it had abated while desperate to feel it again.

He panted down from his orgasm, eyes sliding up to find Tony again, still on stage, but waving to the crowd and making his way towards the wing.

Steve focused everything he had on controlling his breathing and finding gravity again, as the people around him collected notepads and purses, and the low roar of conversation welled up around him.

The crowd dispersed, but Steve stayed glued to his seat - not only because he was worried about a tell-tale wet spot on his pants, but because he wasn’t sure his legs could currently support him. Once the room had mostly cleared, he heard a door bang open and looked up to see Tony surging out of the backstage area, making a beeline for him.

“Tony, that was—” he started, but Tony cut him off with a firm grip on his bicep.

“No time. I need you to come with me. Right now.” The last was hissed through clenched teeth and now that he was out of the stage lighting, Steve could see Tony’s cheeks were flushed, his hands were clenched into fists and his eyes were dark and wild.

Tony shoved his own jacket into Steve’s hands and dragged him to his feet, leading him along with a hand on the small of his back. Steve could still feel the shifting of the toy inside him as he moved. He held the jacket in front of him, not sure if it was enough to hide his hardly flagged erection, or the damp stain on his khakis. Tony steered him towards the backstage door, pressed indecently close behind him.

Steve felt Tony’s hand glide over his side and into the pocket of his jacket. His fingers tangled into the collar Steve had been gripping just moments ago and Steve's knees went weak. His cock throbbed to life, eager again already, and his body craved Tony’s touch.

A small noise of want leaked out between his lips and Tony huffed out a half breath, half groan against Steve's ear as he rushed him down the hall—towards a dressing room? Out to the car? Steve didn't know; he let himself be steered and focused all his energy on not coming again already.

Tony gripped the collar, still inside the pocket, pressed it against Steve's side, and leaned in impossibly closer. “Steve, darling, you stole the show.”

Chapter Text

The cold blazed its way up over his hipbone, along his side, skating between his ribs. Tony matched it with hot kisses on his other side. The sensation was thrilling, intoxicating.

The ice left a damp trail and though the room was warm, the shock of air against his wet skin was a new kind of pleasurable torture. He tensed his arms against the cuffs and tried to roll his hips up, find some friction.

A hand slipped mercifully between his legs as the ice cube slid over his nipple to tease at the dip of his throat.

The next breath he sucked in was acrid smoke and frigid water. The room smelled like melting metal and he could taste stomach-churning salt on his tongue. He coughed, choked, tried to push the smoke out of his lungs.

“Colonel,"  he gasped out.

The burn of the ice instantly vanished, the bindings disappeared, and he found himself being bundled in a blanket, pulled against Tony’s chest. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and burrowed in, breathing in the smell of him and banishing the heart-pounding memories. He didn’t realize he was shivering until Tony pulled the blanket tighter and rubbed his arm.

“Shh, babe, it’s okay.” Tony ran soothing hands up and down his sides. “What was it?”

“The ice.” Steve was pleased to find his voice was steady and even. His teeth didn’t chatter. “It was okay—it was good—and then. It wasn’t.”

“Ok, ok.” There was an edge of something panicky in Tony’s voice, like he was shaken too but trying not to show it. “No more ice. JARVIS, burn all the ice in the house.”

“Yes, sir.”

Steve chuckled into Tony’s neck. “It was good though, I liked it until—And it looked like fun in that video…”

“Not worth it,” Tony replied immediately. “No ice.”

“Okay.” He let out an uneven breath and curled deeper into Tony’s side. Tony was quiet, patient; he stroked his side and kissed his forehead.

“It was the plane,” Steve said finally. “Going down.”

Tony’s hands stilled for a second, Steve could feel his fingers twitch, and then they resumed their easy petting. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m okay,” Steve assured him. The panic had abated and the fog lifted. He was clear and present and comfortable again. He felt his heart rate slowing and his breathing returning to normal. The shivering subsided as well, though every now and then a little jolt would shoot up his spine and he would have to shake it loose.

“You know,” Tony started, tipping his face down so he could meet Steve’s eyes. “You never told me why ‘colonel’ is your safeword.”

“I didn’t? Hmm.” Steve rolled a little, tucked up against Tony’s side instead of on top of his chest. He rested his cheek on Tony’s shoulder and stared into the light from the arc reactor.

“You don’t have to.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s just, um, I was with someone else…” He trailed off, feeling awkward.

Tony gave a shocked gasp and pressed a hand to his chest. “You mean in your ninety-five years of living and twenty-eight years of doing something about it, you’ve been with other people besides me?! I mean, I know I hadn’t been born yet when you hit puberty, but I still figured you’d wait for me. Rude.”

Steve laughed then poked a finger in Tony’s side. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re being ridiculous to distract me.”

“Good. You distract me all day, every day. Turnabout is fair play.” Tony tipped his head down to kiss him.

Steve rolled his eyes and nuzzled deeper into Tony’s chest. “So I was…with someone…in the army. And it was hard to get time alone, but we would find some. Colonel Phillips was a hardass when it came to stuff like that and it was enough to get you very dishonourably discharged. I don’t even think being ‘Captain America’ would have saved me from that.

“So anyway, we would sneak time to…be together”—Tony snorted and Steve poked him again—“and it kinda started out as, ‘did you hear something, was that the Colonel?’ and evolved into just saying, ‘Colonel’ if we thought someone was coming.” Tony snorted again and Steve rolled his eyes. “What are you, twelve?”

“Yes.”

“Anyway, I didn’t really need a safeword back then, or even know what one was—we weren’t doing this kind of stuff. But when you said I needed a word that would shut everything down there was no question.”

He could hear a smile in Tony's voice when he replied, “That’s a good story.”

Steve shrugged.

“You can tell me, you know. About other people in your life. I want to know. About you. All of you. If you want to talk about it.”

It felt like Tony was saying more than that and Steve felt a shiver of a different kind radiate through his body. “Okay,” he whispered and it came out as stunned and overwhelmed as he felt.

Tony tugged a little and Steve shifted closer. He could feel the phantom cuffs around his wrists, echoes of where they’d been restraining him. And Tony was naked and pressed against him in a gloriously long line, the heat from his skin warming the places the ice had touched. Steve’s hips twitched forward of their own accord, rubbing his erection against Tony’s thigh.

“You still want to come?” Tony asked, voice low, soft.

Steve blushed but nodded. Tony didn’t seem to think it was weird that he could be aroused again so soon after that. He just reached between them and took Steve in hand. It took a while, longer than it normally took Steve, but Tony never seemed to tire, or get frustrated. He worked him smoothly, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other furrowed in his hair. Every now and then he’d press a kiss to Steve’s forehead and murmur, “Good boy,” or, “Just like that.”

Steve sunk into relaxed pleasure, the remaining touches of frost finally thawing under Tony’s touch and heat and voice. His orgasm built easily and broke gently, leaving him languid and dopey. Tony tucked him into a more comfortable position. Steve thought idly that he should return the favor, but Tony shushed him until his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

The battle was over, and although its quiet remains lay around them, inside the suit Tony was desperate. His hands itched; he wanted to push from the concrete and fly over to the man standing in the center of the charred battlefield.

Steve had taken control of the fight in the end. He’d followed his shield into the brunt of it, muscles twisting under his Captain America uniform and Tony’s imagination had to provide the rest, because he had turned to blast three aliens back from Steve’s path. Then he was thrown off his feet, as Cap’s shield blocked the aliens’ weapon with a huge bang.

When he caught his breath, the first thing he did was look for Steve.

Glorious, in the middle of the abandoned city street, the sun glinted off his cowl and each deep breath pulled at his uniform. Then he smiled, victorious, and his gaze sought out someone—grin widening when he found Tony.

Tony was on his feet and flying across the street within seconds. Gravel skidded under his boots as Steve pulled back his cowl, eyes bright and pupils wide. “God Bless, America,” Tony said as he lowered his own visor. And it was like Steve couldn’t contain his surge of adrenaline, moving forward with his hands on his hips and if a camera were to capture him now, it’d be an image that’d inspire generations. All Tony wanted was to close the space between them with a kiss, preferably hard and with a lot of tongue.

Steve was his. This incredible man that had stopped an invasion with his fists and unparalleled patriotism alone belonged to Tony, and the truth of that was enough to catch his breath. There was blood on Steve’s uniform but none of it was his own, Tony had made sure of that. Because as much as Steve could take on an army, Tony could build a suit to hold him. Tony could protect him.

He stepped forward, blocking the rest of the world so all Steve could see was him. Blue eyes fixed on his face. “You make battle look good, Captain.” And Steve’s smile softened, the victory easing out of its edges and morphing it into something more affectionate.

Tony wanted to touch him, had wanted to for what seemed like hours. So he pulled off his gauntlets and let one hand close around Steve’s bicep, the other fell to his shoulder. Tony knew this uniform. He had made it with his own two hands, stitched every line with a polymer thread of his own design, hardened the torso with padding strong enough to stop a laser. Tony’s hand followed his eyes, sliding over Steve’s abs. Steve took a stumbling step forward.

“Look sharp, Captain,” Tony ordered under his breath and then delighted in the way Steve’s smile quirked at one edge as he straightened his shoulders, regaining control of his balance under Tony’s hands.

“Look at you, Captain America,” he said, mostly because he couldn’t stop staring, now that he had started. “The kevlar fiber clings to you everywhere. I could look at you all day.” Tony couldn’t resist, not when Steve was starting to tremble with want. He reached back out and touched the back of his neck, right where the collar would rest, only now covered with carbon polymer. Steve shuddered.

Tony moved, scooping one hand behind Steve’s knees to carry him, as his repulsors shot off the concrete. They were close to the tower, close enough that he didn’t have to pay attention, he could focus instead on the way the uniform felt under his hands, how it smoothed around Steve’s strength. His fingers tightened around around Steve’s shoulders, and Steve let his head fall on Tony’s shoulder, his breath a sharp contrast of warmth against the cold air.

When they landed, Tony grabbed Steve’s hand and led them to the penthouse. As soon as the door closed, he pushed Steve against it, hands running along the fabric the way he was dreaming about in the middle of the street.

He gripped hard, twisting Steve’s nipple through the tough fabric and Steve threw his head back against the door and moaned. Tony felt a rush of pleasure, but he would not let his hands relent. His nails scraped down Steve’s sides and he slid to his knees to do the same to his thighs. Above him Steve whined, and Tony found his voice again. “You look so fucking hot in this uniform. Always have, even when it was tights on the S.O. stage, but this one, it's mine. And fuck, that makes it even hotter.” He couldn’t resist biting at Steve’s thigh even though he knew Steve wouldn’t feel it through the bulletproof material. “Sometimes you’re out there fighting Doom bots, or alien creatures like today, and I just have to stop to marvel at how you move under it, how your body twists,” he cupped Steve’s cock, “and turns,” he stroked once, then twice. “I want you. Now. Take out your cock.”

And Steve was so good, even though he was whining and biting his lip so hard and hardly able to stand, his hands moved to the laces of his pants so he could reveal himself to Tony.

It was only because Tony made the uniform, that he wasn’t more impressed by its ability to keep Steve’s sizable erection from breaking through the material. He had one last inner-thought about the power of super-serum cocks, before swallowing Steve whole.

Above him, Steve went wild, hands scrabbling for purchase against the door and, when he couldn’t find any, twisting into Tony’s hair. Tony was unrelenting, he wanted Steve. Now. He wanted to take the man apart and build him up again, just like he did his uniform. Swallow him down then dress him up in his own come. His tongue twisted against Steve’s head and Tony knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

A wicked idea popped into his mind, and he reached for Steve’s uniform-covered ass, squeezing so that his fingers slipped into the crack. He let one hand squeeze, while the other slid in, tracing the place he where he knew Steve’s hole to be. Then, with one well aimed press, he pushed his uniform covered finger into Steve, just a minute breach and thick spurts of come shot into Tony’s mouth so hard they hit the back of his throat.

Steve looked down at him, shock evident on his face, his uniform still neatly in place except for where they were connected. Eyes wide with awe, chest panting, face red and cowl askew. Tony couldn’t help the wink he gave Steve as he sucked every, last drop.

Chapter Text

“Do you ever feel like saying no?” Tony asked out of nowhere.

“What?”

“Do you ever feel like saying no when I ask you to do something?”

“I’ve said no to sex before,” Steve pointed out, still not sure he understood what Tony was asking.

“Yeah. I mean, after you’ve said yes to sex. Saying no to something else.” Tony stood and walked over to Steve’s chair, leaning a hip against his shoulder. Steve tucked his arm around Tony’s thigh, holding him close.

He thought about it for a moment, then looked up to meet Tony’s eyes. “If I were uncomfortable, or didn’t want to do something I’d tell you, Tony. I promise.”

Tony smiled, sweet and affectionate. “I know, I know, I trust you. That’s not what I mean either.” His hand curled around the back of Steve’s neck and a shiver rippled down his spine. “I mean—“ Tony leaned in close and his voice lowered “—if I say, ‘Steve, on your knees,’ have you ever wanted to say, ‘No,’ to see what happens?”

Steve swallowed, something eager and excited curling through his gut. A flash of movement caught his eye—Tony was spinning his collar around his other hand. It was a question, an invitation to something Steve had never considered before, but now he was intrigued, curious, incensed.

He looked to the collar, then to Tony, and nodded. When Tony brought it close he tipped his chin back, letting him slide it on. Now Tony would take care of him, no matter what. He could let go.

Tony spun Steve’s chair until he faced him fully, caged between his arms. Tony leaned over him, bringing their faces close together.

“On your knees, Steve,” Tony growled.

Steve met his gaze. “No.”

Tony’s eyes flashed. His responding grin was predatory and heated. Steve’s skin ignited under his scrutiny; his muscles twitched, itching to squirm and writhe, but with effort, he held still.

“I could make you,” Tony hissed out, so close.

Steve sucked in a breath. “You could try.” His voice wasn’t as steady as he would have liked, but he could feel the intensity ramp up. Tony radiated need at him and he soaked it up. He didn’t know what he wanted, if he wanted Tony to make him, if he wanted to push back, or just wanted to quake here, caught between yes and no forever.

Tony slipped one finger between Steve’s collar and his neck, not pulling but settled there, pressure against his throat. When Steve swallowed, he could feel it, just this side of uncomfortably tight.

Tony shifted forward until his legs were on either side of Steve’s, locking them together. Tony leaned in, squeezing a little, looming over Steve, trapping him. The flood of adrenaline was sharp. He wasn’t floating, weightless, like from their usual games, or even merely aroused. He was alight, tense, wound. Tony’s skin was electrified and every time he touched him, it brought the heady risk of shock.

“You’re mine, I can do whatever I want to you.”

Steve’s eyes drifted shut. Yours. He felt the edges of the world blur and his lungs exhale all in a rush. And then Tony’s heat suddenly disappeared. Steve sucked in a cool breath and focused, snapping his eyes open. Tony had moved back a few feet. There was challenge in his eyes, and Steve thrilled at the thought of what he might do if Steve walked away.

But he didn’t walk away, he rose and stepped forward until they were chest-to-chest, forehead to forehead. Tony’s hand returned to his collar, holding it lightly, possessive.

“Tell me your word, babe,” Tony whispered in his ear, and this wasn’t a command he resisted.

“Colonel.”

“Good boy.” Tony’s breath was against the curve of his ear. The praise warmed him from the inside out, like a shot of whiskey.

Tony gripped the collar tighter. “On your knees.”

Steve straightened his spine, leaned away from the touch. “No.”

Tony deftly flicked Steve’s pants open and wrapped his hand around his cock. “On your knees, Steve,” he commanded again.

“No.” It was more moan than word.

Tony stroked him, rough, demanding, and Steve’s body yearned to give in to it. He was on a tightrope, balanced precariously between control and release. He was Tony’s, Tony had him held tight, locked to him, and yet he still whispered, “No,” when Tony ordered him down again.

Tony’s pace quickened. He gripped Steve just the way he liked it, rolled his palm over the head of his cock, ran the pad of his thumb on the sensitive underside. Steve couldn’t breathe, his hands came up to Tony’s sides, a fistful of his shirt pressed over each hip.

When he started to shake, Tony pulled him closer, gripped the collar tighter and growled out, “On your knees, Steve.”

Steve cried out, came, and while he was still throbbing through the aftershocks, he fell to his knees. Tony’s hand stayed wound into his collar and his other, still slick and wet from Steve’s come, pulled his own cock out and stroked himself to release. Steve could tell Tony was close already and it didn’t take long before he was gasping out in desperation. When Steve opened his mouth and leaned forward, Tony’s eyes squeezed shut, the hand on the collar convulsed and he coated Steve’s tongue, lips, cheeks.

Tony stumbled forward and Steve caught him, tipping them both easily to the floor. He felt relaxed and blissful, clear-headed.

Tony smirked at him. “Good?”

He grinned back, reached out a finger and ran it over Tony’s cheek. “Yes.”

Chapter Text

Steve ached. His arms hung above his head at an angle that fell on the right side of the pleasure-pain line, and they had been that way for what felt like hours. Tony had littered his chest and back and thighs and ass red, and every direction he turned on their too cool sheets slid and stung. His cock lay spent along his hip, having come not once but three times under Tony’s attention.

He floated, body drained and mind a pleasant buzz of nothing. Over him, Tony stood at the side of the bed panting, bent over, and catching his breath after his own orgasm. Its evidence strung across the marks on Steve’s chest. He had the idle thought that Tony could reach out and rub his come into the marks; he wanted it, but he was floating too high to ask for it. Instead he stared at Tony, at how he ran a hand through his hair, the disarrayed strands twisting even more, at how he looked at Steve, eyes soft at their edges, smile curving around a whispered praise.

Steve’s body arched into Tony’s when he leaned farther over him. It was an instinct to seek more, give more, and he followed it despite the pain that Tony’s crisp shirt caused when it dragged against his skin. Tony pressed a kiss against his ear, and one of his hands gripped Steve’s wrists as the other unfastened the serum-proof leather cuffs from the headboard.

Steve collapsed, until Tony gathered him in his arms, pulling him into a seated position. Tony was whispering a litany of praises and encouragement under his breath, but all Steve could focus on was the stinging from Tony’s hand running up and down his back, and the aftershocks of pleasure pooling at the base of his spine.

Tony’s neck tasted like salt and something uniquely Tony, as Steve placed a line of kisses onto the nearby skin. His head rolled, running his mouth up and down Tony’s neck until Tony put a stilling hand on the back of his head.

“My perfect sub. How you bent so beautifully for me.” His words echoed around the room and Steve wanted to follow them but Tony kept a hand on his head. “How do you feel?”

Steve smiled into his neck. “Floating.”

“Good. So good.” Tony’s hand in his hair started to pet. “And your shoulders, your back?”

“Sore. But good sore.”

Tony hummed. “Jarvis, begin bathroom sequence three,” he said, and his hand pulled at Steve’s hair gently. Steve followed the unspoken order with ease, pulling away from Tony’s neck, and then Steve was tugged onto his feet, Tony bracing his shoulders until he found his balance.

He wanted to sway into Tony, have them fall back onto the bedroom carpet, but Tony pulled him forward into a hug that was more of a lean on Steve’s part. “I’m going to take such good care of you.” Steve shivered at Tony’s softly spoken words. “I just need you to walk a little. Can you do that for me?”

Steve could do whatever Tony asked of him.

The bathroom tile was slippery under his feet but Tony’s arm around his waist was a constant anchor. When they reached the vanity, Tony’s hand reached up to curl around Steve’s neck, over the collar, and he gripped tight, pressing the leather into his skin before using the pressure to push him onto the vanity seat.

“Stay,” Tony ordered, tracing his finger down Steve’s cheek before pulling away to walk towards to tub.

Their bathroom, usually so bright and cool was dim and warm, even though the steam from the water hadn’t yet filled the room. Steve shifted on the leather seat, trying to find a spot that put the least amount of pressure on his sore ass.

The sound of water filling the tub stopped. Tony’s hand reached back out towards him and he blinked at it for a moment then looked past it to Tony’s indulgent smile and everything felt right.

“Grab my hand,” Tony said after a moment and the order spurred Steve’s body into action, his hand sliding into Tony’s smaller, but steady, one.

Tony helped him into the tub, the warmth enveloping his legs, thighs, then shocks of pain as it seeped into his healing marks. A moan slipped from his lips, and Tony’s dark chuckle echoed off the walls of the bathroom. “And here I thought I’d worn out your libido.”

When Steve was completely settled in the water, his head lolled back against the bathtub rim. The water slid over his sore skin, warming his aching muscles, and Tony was right there, sitting on a stool on the other side of the porcelain tub, cradling his head against his chest. Steve could feel the outline of the arc reactor against his head, the rim of the tub against his collar but everything else was floating.

Fingers, strong and sure, massaged into Steve’s temples and he knew another string of moans fell from his mouth but he didn’t care. It was like before, and he remembered how Tony’s eyes ignited with each gasp he ripped from Steve’s mouth. All he could do then, like all he could do now, was feel and drift under Tony.

The smell of sandalwood and the sounds of soap lathering into a cloth, and then Tony was whispering, “Sit up a bit,” and Steve obeyed, leaning forward. He couldn’t hold back a hiss as the water brushed against his tortured nipples, echoing the lashes of the switch, only with a constant thrum of warm pain instead of the sharp shock of leather.

Tony’s mouth caught against his collar, giving it a quick kiss followed by a possessive tug of teeth on the leather and vibranium, before trailing his lips down over his back. “You did so well. Taking it all. I can tell how much you liked it, how much you like my marks all over you skin.” He sucked in a breath, fingers trailing over a line across his pec, before lifting the cloth again. “Lean back, babe.”

Another groan was wrenched from his throat when Tony brought the cloth back over his chest, paying special attention to his nipples. Steve was hard again, an ache between his legs that mirrored the ache of the rest of his body.

When he caught Tony’s gaze transfixed on the marks covering Steve’s chest, he could see the darkness there, the desire. Steve wasn’t the only one dismayed to see them starting to fade already. “I wonder how hard, how long, I’d have to beat you”—Tony whispered as he traced the washcloth over Steve’s arms—“for the marks to last until morning.” Steve moaned at his words this time, instead of his ministrations. “I’m going to wash your hair.”

Steve closed his eyes, knowing that Tony would wet his hair with a nearby basin, run his hands, strong and sure, over his scalp. Tony was humming and Steve wondered if he knew he was making the little noises, or if he was comforting Steve subconsciously.

After rinsing his hair and the rest of the soap from his body, Tony withdrew again. Not far, though. He reached for a towel from the warming rack, one hand staying on Steve’s shoulder, as if he wanted to maintain as much contact with Steve as possible.

Tony ordered him to stand, then assisted him with the action, wrapping the towel around him before he was fully out of the tub. It was when Tony was rubbing the towel over his skin that Steve realized the marks had disappeared. A sadness rushed through his afterglow but Tony would have none of it. “Kneel.” Steve did so without question, warm and snug in the soft towel, by Tony’s side as he was meant to be. Even when the marks faded, this would always remain between them, so long as they chose to give it to one another. “Look at me.” Steve did, warming at the heat he saw in Tony’s eyes, the affection that wrinkled their edges.

“Yes, Tony?”

“You were amazing—are amazing.” His hand pushed back the stray hairs that had fallen over Steve’s forehead. “Mine.”

Steve smiled, nuzzling his head against Tony’s thigh. “Yours.”

Chapter Text

Chapter One

Bucky…The feeling that name brought was…indescribable. “We have Bucky Barnes.” Tingling, joyful relief, twisted with gut-wrenching, nauseous horror. “We have Bucky Barnes.” Bucky was alive. And SHIELD had him.

Steve wanted him back.

He flattened his palm against the conference table and tried to breathe steadily, stay calm, be a voice of logic and strength and reason. If they could trust him, they might let him take Bucky. But his mouth was dry, and his stomach felt like lead, and all he wanted to do was scream and fly across the table and shake Fury until the key to his best friend fell out of his pocket.

“He should be with us—with me.” He met Fury’s cool, expressionless face. His heart pounded in his chest, anger and betrayal heating his blood. “You can’t expect him to wake up alone. I remember when I—what I wouldn't have given to see one familiar face.”

Fury held up a placating hand. “I’ll admit we made mistakes with you, Captain. But this is different. Barnes has been brainwashed, his mind was filleted over and over. We have no way of knowing what state he’ll be in, or if he’ll even remember you at all.” Steve’s gut twisted. “And besides all of that, he’s still unconscious. It’s not safe for anyone, Barnes included, for him to be moved right now.”

“Safe? So it’ll be safe for his ‘filleted mind’ for him to wake up alone in whatever lie you’ve concocted for him, this time. What are you planning? Convince him it’s 1936 again and none of it ever happened? Let him think he’s still a prisoner, a tool? You probably have him caged now, like an animal, like they did.”

Steve remembered staggering into that room and finding Bucky strapped down on that table, restrained, panicked, trapped against his will, like he’d be now if he let SHIELD keep him. Why would they even want him at SHIELD? He belonged with Steve. “You—you probably don’t even want Bucky back, you want the Winter Soldier for your own use. You’re no better than Hydra!”

The one comfort of losing Bucky on the train was that Steve knew he wouldn’t have to go through any more shit. He could imagine him at peace. And now he was alive again and broken and he needed Steve and they locked him in a cage and tied him down and—

Steve didn’t even realize he was shouting again until a single finger touched the side of his hip, cutting him off sharply. Tony pressed firmly against his jutting hip bone. Steve sucked in a rattling breath then let it out. Tony wasn’t looking at him—he was glaring across the table at Fury—but Steve could feel the full force of his commanding presence crackling from his fingertip through Steve’s skin and to his core.

It wasn’t sexual—his roiling anger removed any chance of that—but it was profoundly settling. Something churning and acidic inside him calmed and stilled. Steve took a moment to breathe and focus, letting Natasha and Bruce take over the questioning for a moment. Tony still made no movement towards Steve, shot no looks his way, but the single finger remained glued to his hip.

Tony could pin Steve anywhere. Two fingers affixed him to the kitchen counter. A palm on his head glued him to the floor. When Tony straddled him and pinned his arms above his head, Steve felt truly, gloriously, trapped. This time was different.

Tony was offering him a ground, in case he needed it. A tether to cling to, to keep him from flying away. It was gentle and unassuming, Steve knew he could brush it off and Tony would let him go. But that’s what Tony was now—his tether.

Tony surely had every reason not to want Bucky in his tower. He was a dangerous Hydra asset, brainwashed, and—on a more selfish note—likely to be a massive time sink for Steve as he recovered. But Tony hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t shot Steve any concerned looks. The second Fury said, “We have him, and we’re keeping him,” Tony had his metaphorical fists up, in his boxing stance. He was fighting for Bucky, for Steve. So, Steve trusted him to fight, let him take the lead, even though it was one of the scariest things he’d ever done, putting that in Tony’s hands. Because this was too important to be ruined by Steve’s temper, by his fear.

When Steve was locked in the safe space the collar provided, floating, soft, yielding, when Tony was wrapped around his body, cradling his mind with confident hands and a silky-strong voice, it was easy to love Tony then.

Steve was open and free in that space and none of the things that were trying or overwhelming or frustrating about a relationship could reach him there. So, of course, he loved Tony in those moments.

And sometimes it was hard. Arguing on the battlefield. Needing to haul Tony up out of his workshop after a three-day engineering binge and pour him into bed. The drinking, the loud music, the cocky smirk when Steve got angry. That a compromise was inevitably Tony getting everything he wanted, and Steve getting a distracting blowjob. Tony was wasteful, forgetful, and thought money could solve everything. And Steve loved all of that too.

It was easy to love Tony when he was bringing Steve back down from outer space, slipping the collar off, petting and soothing abused skin and sore muscles. It was somehow easy to love Tony when he was forgetting about a date with Steve, yet again.

But looking at him now, mumbling half-formed insults and shooting death glares across the room, guns blazing, one hand bringing Steve down and the other up in Fury’s face, Steve realized it was easiest to love him right now.

He thought about all the times before that he’d felt this love and not said anything, not told Tony what he’d given Steve, how he’d changed him, how much Tony meant to him. He’d never put it into words before, because he didn’t know he had words for it at all.

It was always easy to love Tony, even when it was really, really hard.

Especially when it was really, really scary.

And he needed him to know.

Chapter Two

The living room carpet rubbed against his bare knees. Steve wanted this to be perfect, and as he twisted his collar between his hands, he knew that this was the best he could do, this was everything he had to offer.

With a deep breath, he forced everything else to fade away: Bucky, Fury, their conversation from earlier. There was nothing he could do about it now. Fury had assured them he'd notify Steve the moment Bucky woke up. Tony had demanded Stark Medical would take over from there, and Fury had miraculously agreed, due in part to the menacing glances he'd received from multiple Avengers. Now, well, there wasn’t much more he could do about the situation.  

His fingers clenched around the collar in his lap, and he thought of Tony. Steve was already halfway to floating, all because after the meeting, Tony had told him to return to the penthouse and wait. He’d obeyed, because he needed to calm down, and he knew Tony understood. Tony had wanted to give him time to process as much as he could, under the circumstances.

So he came back to the penthouse to wait, but more than that, he had a mission. One Tony knew nothing about...yet.

There was a pair of shorts he owned, ones Tony had bought him, gold and skintight. They barely covered his upper thigh, especially when he was kneeling, and Tony loved him in them. They were all that he was wearing.

He had bathed, lathered himself in a lotion that never failed to draw Tony’s mouth to his skin. He’d taken a straight razor and shaved his jaw and neck, trimmed around his cock. It was around that time that his body had taken notice of his plan, and he’d been half hard ever since.

Next to him, laid like an offering on the coffee table was every sex toy Tony had ever gifted him. They were lined up in a row of Iron Man red and gold, and every way they’d ever tortured him replayed in his mind whenever he looked at one too long. So he kept averting his eyes back to his hardly covered thighs. But no matter what, he always inevitably looked back at the coffee table. His cheeks flushed every time.

The handcuffs were there, draped over the suitcase that had started everything. Next to it were the red and gold, metal balls Tony had made him grip throughout the night, months ago. The cuffs were there, and even the switch. His nipples tingled at the sight of it, remembering the marks it had left.

He looked back down at his collar. He wanted this to be special, to give Tony anything and everything he could want. So Steve had been grateful when they were forced to go their own ways after Fury’s meeting. He had needed time to prepare.

On the coffee table next to the toys were Broadway tickets Pepper had given him over a cup of coffee an hour ago. Next to those tickets were Stark courtside seats he’d traveled all the way to Rhodey’s to get.

Once Steve had it all laid out, he stood in front of the table, with his hands on his hips, imagining Tony seeing it all. Something was missing.

He didn’t have long, he knew Tony would return to the Tower within a few hours but it was enough time. Steve brought a sketchpad to his lap and drew the thing he sketched the most, the thing he was acutely familiar with, the thing he knew Tony would love: the sharp lines and smooth edges of Iron Man.

He left the helmet off, pencil curling around Tony’s wide smile and bright eyes instead. He drew himself in Tony’s arms, the sun setting behind them. He managed to add a returning smile to his own face, without running out of time.

When he finished, he added the drawing to his coffee table grand gesture.

He loved Tony. He wanted to give him everything and anything. He wished he had more to give, something that Tony would consider 'epic' or 'out of this world'. But what more could he offer? The only thing Tony had ever asked for was Steve, that was all he ever wanted. And this was all that Steve could give. So after he finished the drawing he knelt on the rug, hands on the collar resting in his lap, and he waited.

Time passed.

The elevator chimed, and Steve sucked in a breath. He had glued his eyes to the rug submissively, but...he wasn’t strong enough, he wanted too badly to see what Tony looked like when he saw Steve waiting.

Tony was barely two steps into the penthouse when his jaw fell open and he pulled the sunglasses from his face, obviously confused. “Oh hell, JARVIS, what did I forget?”

Steve couldn’t stop his smile, and it was like the tension was cut from the moment. This would be easy, he just had to say the words. “You give me everything, Tony, and I wanted to give you the same because, well—”

Tony stepped away from the elevator, cutting him off. “It’s not your birthday, that’s next week. Is it my birthday? When's my birthday? JARVI—oh no...could it be our—” he snapped his fingers then pointed at Steve. “Is it our anniversary? Do we have one of those?”

“Tony.” Steve took another breath, keeping his eyes locked on the man because that effectively stopped his rambling. Tony’s jaw slammed shut when he reached the edge of the rug, and Steve could tell he had noticed the table by the way his gaze turned from panicked to curious.

“What is all this?” Tony asked, voice barely a whisper as he broke their gaze, walking over to, of all things, the drawing first.

“You give me everything,” Steve began again and this time when Tony looked over his shoulder to interrupt, Steve held up a hand. “Let me. I...I wanted to give you everything too, because…I love you, and I wanted you to know and—” his eyes dropped to the coffee table, watching as Tony gripped one of the metal balls in his palm and Steve felt his pulse hitch in response. “—I wanted this to be special in whatever way you chose. We can stay in, we can go out...”

Tony grabbed the other ball, rolling them between his fingers and palm as he turned back to face Steve. He looked beautiful, still in his suit from the meeting, even with confusion still written across his face. “Yes, I love you too, Steve. But, what's the special occasion?”

“That.” Steve raised his eyebrow when the confused expression remained. “That’s the special occasion. I love you and I wanted to give you a token of that love. But what do you get the richest and smartest man on the planet? You can buy anything you want Tony, and when you can’t, you make it.” He took another deep breath because the look on Tony’s face showed that he still didn’t understand. “I know we could use any of the toys on this table on any regular day, I know that you can have me on my knees with a word. So I gathered it all together and drew you a little sketch because, well, I love you. So much.”

“Oh.” Tony’s face cleared with relief. “Great! Is that all?”

“Is that all?” Now Steve was the one whose jaw dropped. “I’m pouring my heart out and you’re—you—I—what?”

“Pouring your heart out? I love you too, we’ve loved each other for ages. I’m more than happy to use this table of goodies. And the art. I can’t keep my eyes off it. I get it keep it right?”

“Of course, Tony.”

“You look delicious, and you smell divine, come closer.” Steve rolled his eyes at the order but still knee-walked closer to Tony. When he was within arm's reach Tony reached out and ran a hand through his hair, massaging into Steve’s temple. “You’re so gorgeous waiting for me on your knees in my favorite pair of shorts. How could I not think it was a special occasion?”

“Tony,” he began, leaning his cheek into Tony’s palm. “You do realize we’ve never actually said we love each other before. Right?”

The hand stuttered to a stop. “What?”

“We’ve never said we love each other.”

“That’s preposterous. I love you. How could I not love you? Look at you you're incredible. You're so good for me, always so good, no matter what. You try so hard, even when I ask you for nearly-impossible things. You save the world, and you leave your sketching pencils all over the damn place and bizarrely you know who Madonna is but you still can't seem to get the DVR to work, and you thank JARVIS every damn time he helps you out. And when you surrender for me, it's so beautiful. You're so open and easy and damn, Steve. Of course I love you. You're everything to me. I’ve loved you for years.”

Steve dropped back onto his heels, face flushing darker every time he looked towards Tony. The words kept playing in Steve's head and they made sense, they fit, even if they took his breath away and warmed him from the inside out. He wanted to laugh, or maybe that was a sob building in his chest because he loved Tony, and Tony loved him, had for—Wait a second. “Tony, we haven’t been together for years.”

“Well it certainly feels like it!”

And the pressure that had been building in his chest finally broke into a laugh, and Steve didn’t try to hold it back, just let it go into the space between Tony’s legs. Tony rubbed his hair, petting and laughing too, even if it was still tinted with confusion. “Are we really arguing over loving each other?” Steve asked into Tony’s thighs.

“Seems like it.”

Steve pulled back from his legs just far enough to ask through lowered lashes, “Would you like to go look at the coffee table and put something to good use instead?”

Tony’s hand in his hair gripped tight, pulling his head back so he could lean down and bite a kiss into his bottom lip. “You always did know how to ask nicely for what you want.”

Chapter Text

Chapter One: Sheets

Tony’s eyes shot open, heart jump-skipping into wakefulness. It usually took a few hours before his brain clicked on beyond thoughts of coffee, warmth, and Steve, but this morning was special. Tony was not good at surprises, not because he didn’t like them, but because his endlessly rambling mouth always seemed to give them away too soon.

This time, however, this time he’d managed it. And he finally got to share it with Steve. He rolled onto his side taking in six acres of sleeping super-soldier beside him.

Steve clearly had not gotten the memo that this morning was exciting. He was all wild arms and legs, flat on his back and stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam. Their sheets had been discarded halfway through last night’s sweaty adventures, leaving Steve’s glorious naked body spread out before Tony, a tempting buffet of erotic options. Steve’s face was tipped towards Tony, his mouth slack. Tony watched his chest rise and fall with steady breaths, and the collar pulling against his throat as he swallowed. He was so even and still and calm and unbothered.

Challenge accepted.

Tony rose up on his knees and tucked himself carefully between Steve’s thighs. He slid his thumb along the crease of Steve’s thigh, past his soft dick and beneath his balls. Steve didn’t move. Tony brushed the pad of his thumb against Steve’s rim and shuddered when he found it still slick and loose from last night.

Steve’s breath hitched as Tony let the tip of his thumb slip inside, but he stayed sleeping. Tony couldn’t tear his gaze away from the place where his finger disappeared into Steve’s eager body. The adrenaline from his sudden waking mixed with tightly coiling arousal until he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back from ramming forward and feeling that heat around his cock instead.

He pressed deeper and curled his thumb forward. Steve woke with a gasp, arching into the touch and keening before his eyes even opened. “Tony,” he choked out. His body twisted to the side and his fingers locked around Tony’s free wrist, digging in. Tony watched him writhe, his own neediness subsiding as he saw his Steve melt into pure pleasure.

Steve was completely open to the sensation in his drowsy state, sleep-soft instead of subspacey this time. It was beautiful. “God, you’re beautiful,” Tony told him, crawling over Steve’s squirming body. He left one arm braced on the mattress at Steve’s side, giving him something to cling to, while his thumb pressed deeper: curling, sliding, teasing.

Steve whimpered and turned to the side, wrapping both his arms around Tony’s, clinging like it was the only thing tying him to the bed, keeping him from flying away. His feet braced against the mattress, earning him more friction against Tony’s hand. Tony swapped his thumb for two fingers, sliding in easily and feeling Steve’s smooth heat draw him in deeper.

“Steve, you’re so incredible,” Tony groaned, watching the flush of pink bloom across Steve’s cheeks at his words. The way Steve took praise…sometimes it was too much, too open, too loving, and Tony felt like a skydiver without a parachute. Steve whimpered and Tony’s stomach dropped out.

He moved forward, flattening Steve onto his back again and covered his body with his own. His fingers never relented in their assault on Steve’s prostate and he pressed his lips to Steve’s ear and did what he did best: talked.

“You’re going to be so good for me, Steve. You’re going to let me fuck you with my fingers and you’re not going to touch your cock and neither am I, but you’re going to come so hard it’s going to blow your mind. I want to see you cover yourself so I can lick it off you. And then when you’re spent and I’ve jacked off against your fantastic abs, you’re going to grab the two bags I packed for us from the closet and we’re heading to the airport.

“I’m taking you away, you don’t need to know where because I’m going to take care of everything. You just have to come along and be good for me, which I know you will be, you always are. We’re going to celebrate your birthday with sun and sand and exploring this incredible body of yours in any way I want.”

Steve twitched and gasped under him, every buck of his hips rubbing his thigh against Tony’s cock, making him leak and groan himself. Steve started rolling forward, arching up and fucking himself on Tony’s fingers and Tony let him.

“You’re going to come for me Steve, so we can go, you’re going to come so prettily for me, just like that. Come with my fingers inside you, show me how this makes you feel.” He curled his fingers, finding the sweet spot and torturing it. Steve started to shake and he knew he was close. “Come on, darling, come for me, come for me, give it to me.”

Steve made a wonderful noise somewhere between a sob and moan and clenched around Tony’s fingers as his cock pulsed over his stomach and chest. Tony bent down and ran his tongue in a rough swathe through Steve’s come, his hand abandoning Steve’s heat to stroke himself quick and needy. The tang of Steve on his tongue and Steve’s gasps as he spiraled back down through the aftershocks brought Tony to the edge, and it wasn’t long before he added his own release to the mess splashed across Steve’s abs.

Tony watched Steve as he came down and woke up at the same time. He reached out and ran his hand through Steve’s hair until he tipped his chin to meet Tony’s gaze. Steve looked like he was having trouble remembering his own name, and it made Tony grin with satisfaction.

“Are we really going away?” Steve asked when he apparently found his voice again.

“Yup.”

Tony could feel Steve holding on to something he wanted to say, hesitating, so Tony answered the only question he could anticipate. “There’s nothing you can do for Bucky right now, not ‘til he wakes up. We’ll have my private plane, we’ll have a satellite StarkPhone. The second he opens his eyes we’ll be on our way back to New York. It’s your birthday on Tuesday, Steve, you deserve a break. You can come back after a few days and mother hen the fuck out of him, okay?”

Steve took a shaky breath in. “Yeah, yeah okay. That sounds amazing. Thank you.”

Tony rolled over and pressed his lips to Steve’s. Steve hooked a hand around the back of Tony’s neck and drew the kiss out. When they finally pulled apart, Tony cupped Steve’s cheek in his hand. “You deserve it.”

Chapter Two: Clouds

The plane vibrated under his seat, and Tony watched where Steve remained glued to the window. His smile was wide whenever he turned to tell Tony what he saw far below. They were climbing into the clouds, and something about whisking Steve away for the week, having him follow so willingly, left a low level buzz of arousal churning under Tony’s skin.

Steve wore everyday Steve clothes: a too tight shirt and a pair of navy pants. A pair of navy pants on an army man, Tony mused, somewhat distracted by Steve’s shirt riding up above his waistband, as he turned back to press his face to the window. Tony knew the streaks of this morning’s come still painted the skin underneath Steve’s shirt. They peeked out whenever he shuffled in his seat, and it was a tantalizing sight, one he couldn’t quite shake from his mind. Instead, it spurred the heat inside him, made him think of all the wicked things he could do to Steve, would do to Steve. Things he’d make Steve do to him.

Above them, a chime signaled that they no longer needed to remain seated. Tony let out a breath and put his feet up, crossing his ankles on the stripper pole that occupied the center of the plane’s interior. Steve had turned so that all Tony could see was his back, fixated on New York City fading away. When it was presumably out of eyesight, Steve turned back in his seat, finally sensing Tony’s attention on him.

“Come here,” Tony ordered, and Steve dropped his gaze to the jet’s plush carpet. He could tell the submissive gaze was intentional, designed to turn Tony on. “Now.”

The order caused Steve to lift his eyes again, heated gaze automatically meeting Tony’s, teeth working at his bottom lip as his cheeks reddened. Then he slid to his knees. He started to knee-walk his way across the carpet until Tony tsked and shook his head. “Crawl.”

His face went red but Steve fell to his hands. Watching him move towards a stripper pole on all fours was a sight that would fuel Tony’s spank bank for years to come. And yet, Tony was still distracted. He kept thinking of the come under Steve’s shirt, the claim he still couldn’t see.

“Stop.” Steve stopped, his hips swayed to one side, body curling around the pole. Steve looked at him from under his bangs, and Tony could clearly see the collar resting at the nape of his neck. “Sit back on your heels.” Steve did so without question, kneeling with his hands folded on his lap. “You’re so filthy, walking through the airport with our come all over your chest. I wanted to drag my hand under your shirt right there in the terminal, run my tongue along your chest like before—Take off your shirt, babe. Let me see how dirty you are.”

Steve's eyes had darkened from Tony’s words but he followed the order easily, pulling the shirt over his head and tousling his hair. When it was in his hand, Steve smirked, spinning it in the air and throwing it towards Tony. It landed on Tony’s thigh, right next to his growing erection.

“Cute.”

Steve’s smirk widened into a smile. “You always seem to think so.”

“Do you want me to make you spin around that pole for the next two hours?” The threat fell from his mouth without a thought, or more accurately, because it was all he could think of, with Steve that close to the stripper pole. Steve’s entire demeanor changed, from smart ass to wide-eyed wonder, eyes flickering towards the pole with fear. Tony laughed. “Oh, don’t you worry, that’s not what I have in mind for the afternoon, at least not this afternoon. Right now I want you to crawl over here and put your lips around my cock because you have been nothing but a tease all afternoon, walking around with come under your shirt. I bet your asshole is still all loose too, gaping, waiting to be filled. Fuck, Steve, come here, give me your mouth. Now.”

Sometimes, Tony forgot Steve was a superhero, never on the battlefield, but sometimes when they were at home in the tower. The way Steve shot across the interior of the plane, eager super-strength fingers almost ripping Tony's belt, reminded Tony who he was.  His hands were frantic, until Tony ran his fingers through Steve’s hair and whispered, “I don’t care if you rip the pants.”

Steve growled, a sound from deep in his throat that shot straight to Tony’s cock and caused a bubble of precum to build on his slit in response. Steve made quick work of Tony’s clothes, ripping both his pants and boxers from his body, and it was the hottest fucking thing that had ever happened in this airplane. Then Steve lowered his mouth to the head of Tony’s cock.

Warmth enveloped Tony, and his hand reached for Steve chest, rubbing along the dried come. “Steve,” he groaned. “Fuck.” And he knew he wasn’t going to last long. His hands were in a punishing grip in Steve’s hair as he fucked up into Steve’s mouth, using Steve to chase his orgasm, and he opened so beautifully under Tony, lips going slack so that he could slide through them with ease. Every so often Steve’s tongue would wrap around the head, and Tony gripped the armrest, holding on for dear life.

The clouds passed by the window and, fuck, a part of him wished his jet were invisible like Wonder Woman’s, so that he’d have the world under him, just like Steve. He’d be above it all while he had Captain America wrapped around his cock. Everyone would see him on his knees for Tony, his pretty lips wrapped around his thick cock, claiming Steve’s throat both inside and out. His collar was wrapped around his throat; his cock was fucking down into it, blocking off Steve’s windpipe. Taking, claiming, consuming, and Tony was exploding down Steve’s throat, holding his head in place with a tight hand around the collar.

Tony eventually let Steve pull back and, hell, he looked sloppy. A streak of cum and saliva dripped onto his bare chest and Steve grinned, proud, between haggard breaths. Tony reached out and Steve placed his cheek in his palm, and Tony stroked into Steve’s hair. “Fuck,” he leaned over and whispered into Steve’s ear. “You look so good down there, you should stay kneeling the rest of the trip.”

Steve nuzzled into the hand, his erection evident between them but neither of them in a rush to do anything about it. “Okay, Tony.”

Tony leaned back in his seat, a hand staying in the strands of Steve’s hair. He sighed, all the tenseness from earlier draining from his shoulders.

“Feel good?” Steve asked, moving to rest his head from Tony’s palm to the side of his thigh.

“You know you’re always good. I sure say it enough.” Tony laughed. “But yes, that was very much needed. We put that mouth of yours to good use.”

The praise warmed Steve’s cheeks like it always did. He wondered if Steve knew the arousal he had caused, how he made Tony want so badly that he encouraged Steve to rip apart his clothes.

Tony let his eyes rove over Steve’s chest to where the mess from the blowjob mixed with the dried come from this morning, and a sudden, all-encompassing wave of possession rolled through him. Steve was his sub, his love, his. Walking around with Tony’s claim all over him had almost proved to be too much for Tony. He’d been this close to dragging Steve into the airport bathroom to fuck his already ready hole, and still he wanted more. “I want them to see you like this.”

“Who?”

“Everyone. But, more realistically, the flight attendants.”

Steve sucked in a breath, looking over his chest, wiping at his mouth but leaving the come on his chest.

“They won’t go public. They have all the right forms signed. Hell, it’s not the worst thing they’ve seen by far—” And it probably wasn’t the best time to bring up the impressive string of parties he’d had on this jet.

Steve lifted his head from Tony’s thigh, eyes dark. “Now that sounds like a story I’d like to hear. And, yes. If you want to show me off, I want to let you.”

The words made Tony wish he had Steve’s refractory period. “Steve, fuck.”

Steve grinned again, wide and toothy, and obviously a byproduct of subspace. “What? I told you I’d follow. I have the collar on. I want whatever you want.” Then he leaned forward again, rubbing his forehead along Tony’s ruined dress pants. “And, I kind of like the thought…of someone seeing,” he admitted, once his face was hidden.

Tony didn’t think for another second, just lifted his hand for the button that would signal the flight attendant.

His staff was well-trained. A professionally dressed man and woman rolled out a cart not even thirty seconds after Tony called for them. They maintained eye contact with Tony the whole time, averting their gaze only when Tony turned to Steve.

“I’m going to order you some fruit. Would you like your own place setting or do you want to eat from my hand?”

Tony felt particularly wicked, an emotion he usually ran with. But with Steve he felt almost bad, until he remembered the way he intentionally dropped his gaze to the jet’s carpet, seeking to turn Tony on.

He knew Steve wanted to be handfed, especially this far into subspace, and he wanted to hear Steve ask for it, especially with two people watching. Steve shifted, hands clenching on his lap over a sizable erection. He bit his lip and looked up to meet Tony’s gaze; Tony wasn’t surprised to see the heat there, but he did delight at the boldness at its edges. “I can eat from your hand, Tony.”

It was hard to turn his attention back to the flight attendants but he did, ordering an assortment of food which the attendants left on a nearby table. Steve felt warm on his thigh, Tony’s hand methodically petting his hair. He heard Steve hum when the flight attendants left. Tony pulled at his hair so Steve met his eye again. “Liked that?”

Steve was coated in his come, a line of it covering his nipple. The collar was prominent and anyone could see Tony’s claim. Steve’s cheeks were fire red but he was brave, Tony’s courageous sub. “I...liked that a lot.”

A surge of pride blended with the heat of ownership. “Good,” he said, picking up a piece of fruit. “Now, open up.”

Chapter Three: Stars

“Where are we g—“

“Steve.”

“Sorry.” Steve winced, it had just slipped out.

Tony stopped and turned. He didn’t look mad, but Steve squirmed anyway. Tony pressed up close into his space, he had his hands casually in the pockets of his suit, but Steve could see a new sort of rippling tension in his stance. When he spoke his voice was low and full of promise. “What’s the agreement, Steve?”

Steve caught his gaze, hard and heated behind his tinted glasses. “I’m following you.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Tony.” There was no way words could do justice to how much he did. “It wasn’t that. I was just—I was making small talk,” he finished lamely.

Tony, predictably, laughed. “The last kind of talk you have to make, my dear, is small.” He let his eyes drift south for a second and Steve felt his cheeks heat.

“Geez, Tony.” He rolled his eyes then snapped bow-taut when Tony’s hand landed on his side.

“You’re following me. No questions. I’ll take care of you. You tell me if you need something. Right?”

Steve nodded, mind humming in the warm comfort of Tony’s commands.

“Good,” Tony whispered affectionately, and Steve let out a shaky breath. It was overwhelming how much one word could effect him. Tony set off down the street again, with Steve right behind.

And so he followed.

The sun was hot and bright, and the air smelled like salt water and fresh fish. Steve tipped his chin up to the sky and breathed in sea air and freedom. They walked through a small alley, whitewashed stone houses in sharp contrast to the vibrant flowers that coiled up every streetlight and railing. Vine covered balconies leaned far out over the water and Steve caught glimpses of potted tomatoes and herbs. Each breath let go of a little something until he was happily drifting along in Tony’s wake, calm, steady.

Tony led them to a modern brick and glass building and guided Steve inside with one hand in the small of his back. It was an art gallery.

Steve had been trained to walk through a gallery a certain way, take in art like an artist, but this time he got to see art through Tony’s eyes. Tony never let Steve go untethered, always keeping at least a hand on his back, or arm, or wound through Steve’s. He led him through the rooms at his own pace, on his own path, and Steve merely sunk into the touch and let himself be carried along like a boat on the current.

A few times Tony slipped his hands over Steve’s eyes and maneuvered him in front of a painting before pulling his hands away, revealing a shock of bright paint or the soft sweep of a landscape. Steve’s mind was still a whirl of colors and shapes when Tony took him by the hand and pulled him from the gallery and back out into the now-setting sun.

They ate dinner at a tiny restaurant nestled into an angled side street. Tony greeted the owners as old friends and spoke to them in a language Steve didn’t know, and didn’t try too hard to listen to. He blinked placidly in his seat while Tony ordered for them both, eyes and mind fixed on the man across from him.

The food was incredible, even if Steve didn’t know what half of it was. Tony handed him things, and he ate. Sometimes Tony put a bite of something directly in Steve’s mouth, which gave him a little thrill, remembering their plane ride.

After they ate, Tony tossed an absurdly large looking pile of bills on the table and bustled Steve off, down the street. He checked his watch a few times and Steve couldn't help but get curious.

The sun had fully set by now and the city was softly lit by streetlamps and the warm glow pouring out of people’s homes. It didn’t take long for them to reach their apparent destination: a long patio beside a lush public park. The patio hung off the edge of a steep hill, a tall stone railing marking the edge. Tony leaned against the railing and tucked Steve up against him.

They looked out together—a sea of black glass stretching into infinity, no clear line separating it from the sky, save for the beginning of a dense dusting of stars.

“Wow.” It wasn’t enough but it was all he could manage. The stars were bright and clear and there were a thousand times as many visible as in New York. They blanketed the sky and Steve couldn’t help but gaze up, spinning slowly around to take it all in. The two of them were high above the city, looking down at the sprawl of dotted lights—homes and boats only distinguishable by whether they were still, or bobbed up and down with the waves.

There was a crackling snap from down by the water, and then a glowing rocket shot up into the air. At its peak, it burst, lighting up the sky with a brilliant blue and red starburst that shattered into a waterfall of twinkling sparks. The colors rained over the city, three more rockets following in quick succession.

Steve felt his jaw drop. It was incredible. Did Tony know there were going to be fireworks tonight? They wouldn’t be celebrating the fourth here. “Why’re they—?”

Tony chuckled and Steve spun to face him. Tony winked. “Happy birthday.”

“You did this?”

“Yeah well, you get all pink and flustered when I buy you expensive things so I thought you might like this more.”

Steve eyed him suspiciously. “So you didn’t buy me anything expensive, huh?”

“Of course I did. Many things. But they’re all back at the tower so you can be pink and flustered in the privacy of your own home. Oh, except for one...” Tony shot him a wicked grin. ”That’s in our hotel room.”

Steve swallowed. “Really?”

“Oh yeah.” Tony’s fingers brushed against Steve’s thigh. “It has settings.”

Steve shivered.

There was a crackle and a pop and Steve’s attention was drawn back to the black sheet sky and the bursts of color breaking across it. For a long time, Steve just watched the fireworks. Each crack was followed by a vivid splash of color, reminding him of the art in the gallery, like Tony's hand kept pulling away to reveal another beautiful surprise.

He glanced at Tony, grinning with adolescent joy only to find Tony wasn’t looking out at the show, but instead he leaned with his elbows on the railing, watching Steve. “You’re missing them, Tony,” he chastised gently.

“Nah, I can see them reflected in your eyes.”

Steve opened his mouth, though he wasn’t sure what to say to that, so instead he shot Tony an incredulous look.

“Shut up, I had a lot of wine at dinner,” Tony grumbled, looking out at the show instead, but Steve caught a hint of pink break across his cheeks and he smiled to himself.

Before he could tease Tony further, a movement caught his eye and he turned his head. On the hill below them was a long, wooden fence, and on the fence perched a little boy. His face was tipped up to the sky, mouth open in wonder, hands pressed to his chest. Every time a new explosion rocked through the city he jumped, then laughed. Steve’s soft smile broke into a full grin.

“Don’t even think about it, Rogers.”

“What?”

“When I said take any souvenir you want, I meant like a postcard, or a magnet, or a yacht.”

Steve laughed and rocked his shoulder against Tony’s. The excitement of the fireworks had turned him giddy and giggling. “I was just thinking that, you know, it’s really amazing and lovely that you gave this to me, but it’s also even more amazing because everyone else here gets to enjoy them too. So, thank you.”

They were both silent for a while, faces turned to the dazzling display, then Tony cleared his throat. “I was that kid. Every fourth. Dad was too busy and mom didn’t like them, but Jarvis took me. I loved them, figured out all the science behind them, tried to make my own a few times with great success, depending on what you define as ‘success’ when it comes to pyrotechnics in your living room.” He paused, and Steve could feel years of memories filling in the silence. “I loved them though.”

“Me too. Bucky and I always snuck into this one neighbor's yard so we could see the big show. Sometimes we’d have a little money and we could get firecrackers or sparklers. We always heard these horrible stories of girls’ dresses catching on fire from them, but it was always that friend-of-a-friend stuff. I was actually kind of sad you and I were going to miss them, being away for the fourth.”

“I know.” Steve didn’t turn but he could hear the smirk in Tony’s voice.

“I’m not even going to ask how you knew that.”

“I know everything,” Tony replied smugly.

“You do not.” The sparks continued to shower across the sky. “Bucky told me they were setting them off for my birthday, I believed him for far too long. I was embarrassingly old when I realized that was not true.”

Tony chuckled.

And now Bucky was...If he was even Bucky anymore. What if he didn’t remember? There had been nights, out there, when he’d close his eyes and tell himself the distant rumble of kids trying to kill each other was only fireworks. He always thought he’d hate them when he got back, but instead he loved them more, grateful that the memories had helped him through rough times.

Steve let out a tense breath and felt Tony’s hand brush against his. He spread his fingers and Tony wove his in between. Tony shifted against him and the steady weight of the other man’s body grounded Steve again in the here and now. A rapid series of silver sunbursts cascaded across the sky.

Steve shut his mind off and watched, taking in the colors and shapes in the same submissive, open way that Tony had lulled him into at the gallery. The show built, layers and layers of colors exploded and filled the sky with dancing lights, until, with one mighty red, white, and blue rocket, the docks finally fell silent and the last wisps of smoke curled away, leaving only the stars behind.

“Happy Birthday,” Tony whispered.

“Thank you,” Steve breathed out, suddenly unable to catch his breath, eyes still fixed on the vast expanse before them.

Tony’s knuckles brushed against his cheek, and Steve learned into the touch. “Steve, I’m going back to the hotel. What are you doing?” Tony asked, voice warm but with command crisping the edges of his words.

Steve shifted his gaze to Tony’s face, and the grin he found there lit up the sky brighter than any of the fireworks he’d just seen, or had ever seen. He smiled back, leaning into Tony’s space. “I’m following you.”

Chapter Four: Sea

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Steve asked, watching as Tony untied the rope that connected their boat to the dock and stretched his body to spin the ship's wheel at the same time.

Tony shook his head, again, pointing at the bench that ran along the bow of their speedboat, again. Steve wanted to help, but he also wanted to follow; so, he sat on the white cushion and waited.

The sun pierced overhead, reflecting off the turquoise water, and it made him appreciate the pair of sunglasses Tony had put in his bag for him. They had arrived at the dock shortly after breakfast, Tony handing Steve a bag and ordering him to change. He had no idea why he was even surprised, when he found that the only thing in the bag was a red, white, and blue speedo with the Captain America shield stretched across the front.

Tony, of course, was impeccably dressed in white linen pants and a white linen button up, the arc reactor light barely shining through on this bright, sunny day. "Next time remind me to bring the yacht, instead of the speedboat," Tony said, foot kicking them away from the dock. "That one is plugged into JARVIS and he's a master with the lines."

"Are you sure you don't need any—"

Tony shook his head, bringing his foot back into the boat. "Sit. Look pretty. We're on our way."

The wind picked up as they rode through the channel at low speed. Tony standing behind the wheel, hip perched on the tall captain’s chair, gorgeous as he blocked the sun from Steve's eyes. The city came into view and Steve could see the white, stone houses and alleyways they had walked through the day before built into the side of a mountain. As they got closer to open seas, Steve could see the patio from their fireworks show. It made him want to be near Tony, so he slid off the bench seat.

Tony gave him a look when he tucked into the tall chair next to him, and Steve shrugged, smiling. "Still sitting."

"Cheeky. Here you are, you've agreed to do everything I say, but you're still finding loopholes."

"Yeah," Steve replied, rocking his shoulder into Tony's. "Loopholes that allow me to get closer to you. Can you blame me?"

Tony hummed, the wind blowing in his hair and at his clothes as he pretended to think. "No. Can't say that I can. I am rather dashing, and charismatic, and—"

"Humble?"

"No, no, never that." Tony slid an arm behind his seat, wrapping it around Steve's bare waist, pulling him closer so he could whisper in Steve's ear. "Hold on we're getting to the end of the channel. Time to go fast."

And he wanted to ask Tony how a boy from Manhattan had learned so much about boating, but Tony pushed the throttle up to full speed, and they were flying over the water, bouncing over the waves in a steady rhythm. The wind and engines roared, but his super-soldier hearing allowed him to hear Tony's whoop of joy.

It was like he was in Iron Man's arms, the freedom of flying as they pierced through the waves. The city faded behind them, and before long, they were completely surrounded by the sea and Tony lowered the throttle until the boat came to a stop.

Their seats were close and when Tony spoke, his words puffed against Steve's bare shoulder. "Come here." Tony tugged at Steve so that he was standing between Tony's splayed legs, the cool linen pressing against his heated skin as Tony's hands took every liberty, roaming over his body. "There's something about having you in the middle of open water, to know that if you moaned"—Tony twisted at Steve's nipple—"or screamed"—he pulled at the elastic of Steve's speedo—"no one would ever know."

The heat of the sun and the feel of Tony's hands on his skin was playing with his head, making him feel lightheaded and needy in Tony's arms. Tony's finger pulled at the elastic again, far enough that he could see how affected Steve was from Tony's words.

"This speedo is adorable, look at how your erection presses up against the shield. But, I think I changed my mind. I think I want to see you naked in just my collar, under the Mediterranean sun, instead. Good thing I created sunblock for your super-soldier, Irish complexion. Strip."

Steve's hand gripped Tony's shoulder tight with the order. Naked. In the middle of the afternoon. Tony was reaching for something in the bag and it wasn't until he pulled out a long tube of sunblock that Steve realized he was still standing between Tony's legs, staring.

Tony uncapped the sunblock and the noise jostled Steve. He looked over his shoulder out of habit, further blushing when he realized that, of course, no one would see. When he turned back, Tony had his eyebrow lifted over his sunglasses, waiting.

Steve tucked his thumbs into the elastic band of the speedo and pulled it down to his knees in one quick swoop. His erection bobbed between them but Tony just smirked at it, then started rubbing a layer of sunscreen over Steve’s chest. He took his time running over Steve's pecs, playing with his nipples, then he made sure to get the side of his torso and his hips. Steve's breath caught when he ran a layer of sunblock over Steve's erection. The cool lotion warmed under Tony's hand and Steve had to bite his lip and do his best to not thrust up into it. When Tony finished, he smacked at Steve’s cockhead lightly. "Good boy. Now, turn around."

A rush of humiliation as he turned. It was difficult to shuffle with the speedo around his knees but he did.

"Bend over and put your hands on the wheel. I need to make sure I don't miss a spot."

Steve couldn't bite back his moans when Tony's hands pressed into his back muscle, intent fingers digging in as they trailed down his back. He expected Tony to rub the lotion over his ass, but he gasped when his cheeks were spread and Tony put some of the lotion over his crease, as well. "Wouldn’t want a burnt hole, would we?" Tony whispered into his ear, pressing his whole front against Steve’s back and he could feel Tony’s own needy erection and it was a relief to know that he was just as affected in his white linen pants.

“That speedo is still on, I see. Take it off and hand it to me.”

He looked past his erection to the stretch of bathing suit between his knees and couldn’t quite meet Tony’s gaze as he pushed it down with the side of his foot. The space between the seat and the steering wheel was small, and it was impossible not to rub his body against the rough fabric of Tony’s clothes when he bent down to pick up the speedo and hand it to Tony.

He absolutely did not expect the man to throw it overboard.

“Tony, what?” Steve sputtered, reaching pointlessly for his speedo, but Tony’s hands gripped at his hips. The bathing suit bobbed on the surface of the translucent water, the current pulling it away from the boat.

“Oh, no.” Tony smirked. “Looks like you lost something. Maybe you should go find it.”

“What? You threw—Don’t even understand—”

“Am I asking you to understand?” His voice was firm, a one hundred and eighty degree switch from the teasing a second ago. Steve knew a blush had broken out across his cheeks, eyes fixed on the bathing suit, until Tony pulled at his chin and connected their gaze. “You made it look so fun, throwing clothes on the plane. I wanted to give it a try too. So, like I said, ‘It looks like you lost something, Steve.’”

“Looks like it.” He felt bold so he closed the space between them with a kiss before standing on the edge of the boat and swan diving into the ocean.

The water felt cool on his heated skin, sliding through his hair, between his thighs. The speedo wasn’t far and when he felt it hit his hand he turned, quick, propelling a bit out of the water to show Tony—

Tony. He still sat on the captain’s chair, but now had it turned to face Steve. His linen pants were undone, but other than that he looked pristine under the sun. His hand was wrapped around his hard cock and he was stroking it, eager and unabashed, as he watched Steve follow his order. Steve could see how heated his eyes were, even yards away, and it was easy to remember the press of Tony’s cock when he bent Steve over with the sunblock.

It really shouldn’t surprise Steve how much Tony wanted him, but sometimes it still took his breath away, made him dizzy, floating. He wanted to return, but Tony had only told him to find the speedo, not to return it. He treaded water, eyes glued to Tony as the man continued his lazy stroke, reaching over to grab and sip his tumbler of whiskey. He floated, waited, until Tony crooked his finger and beckoned Steve to return to the boat.

He swam back in a handful of easy strokes, to the stern of the ship, where Steve could push himself up onto the deck. Water fell down his skin, rivulets sliding over his body and pooling by his feet. Tony had spun the chair again, facing the back of the boat now. He watched Steve with his legs splayed open, like they were waiting for Steve to stand in between them. So, that’s what Steve did.

Tony let his hand fall away from his cock, moving both to Steve’s wet skin. Steve was fascinated by the sight of the white linen turning see-through as the water dripped from Steve to Tony. The brush of lips against his neck brought Steve back to the moment, and he dropped his boon at Tony’s feet. “I found my speedo.”

Tony pressed his lips together, amusement and arousal warring in his eyes. “Good boy. You deserve a reward.”

Steve flushed, pressing into Tony’s hands as they roamed over his body.

“I’ll give you a choice, my love. You may have your speedo,” he pointed down to the wet fabric on the floor of the speedboat, “or you may have your orgasm,” he finished, wrapping his hand around Steve cock.

“Aah—Tony.” He thrust into his hand, “Please. More.”

“So good. I want to feel us sliding together, wrap my hand around both our cocks. Come here, hunch over on my lap, yeah, just like that. Good, so good,” he said, a litany of praise in Steve’s ear as he gripped Steve’s ass with the hand that wasn’t around his cock. He could feel Tony’s legs on each side of him, caged by Tony’s thighs and the hand on his ass. Stroking one, two, three times and he wanted to come, but he wasn’t sure, even though Tony had never restricted it before, he still felt compelled to ask. “Tony, please, Tony, let me--”

“Come for me, Steve,” Tony said, voice thick and full of promise, and Steve was falling over the edge, come shooting out and spilling onto Tony’s neat linen clothing.

Tony followed shortly after, a string of come landing on Steve’s stomach. They fell into each other, catching their breaths as Tony rubbed his come into the Steve's saltwatered skin. He watched, transfixed, until Tony pushed him lightly into the chair next to him. He half fell, half sat, drained from Tony's hand but unable to tear his eye away from the white linen of his shirt, now see-through where Steve's come had landed. Mine. Mine, repeating in his head. And all was perfect, floating—

Then he jerked up, stopping short only because Tony's hand gripped his shoulder.

"What is it?"

"Your clothes," Steve began. "I have a spare but you..." he trailed off, imagining them back on the dock, Tony a mess while Steve looked pristine. The image was hot but it tugged on something in his gut, something not quite right, like he should've thought about this before, avoided it or asked permission.

"Hey," Tony hummed, hand running through his wet hair. "I like your upgrade to my wardrobe." He found the throttle again, smirking. "Plus, where we're going we don't need clothes."

Steve laughed. "I understood that reference."

"I made sure of it. Now hold on, we're off to my private island.” And they sped off across the sea.

Chapter Five: Sand

Tony padded down the short path from the house to the beach and grinned when Steve pulled into view. He was stretched out flat on his stomach, one towel laid out under his naked body, another rolled up as a pillow. His legs were spread enticingly, so his feet could poke over the sides of his towel and bury his toes into the hot sand.

Three days they had been here. Three days alone together, Steve in nothing but his collar, gorgeous in his submission to Tony. He’d given over everything, without hesitation, and it was making Tony feel a heady sort of pride and self-satisfaction.

Tony had fallen so easily into the rhythm of taking care of Steve, guiding him through the day and night, down to the beach, up to the kitchen, and time and time again, into their bed. He thought a few times he might be getting close to reaching Steve’s limit, but he had yet to fail to get hard when Tony asked it of him.

Thinking of getting Steve hard was making Tony hard again himself. He could hardly keep up with Steve’s stamina but taking Steve apart and putting him back together, only to take him apart again was as much, or more, enjoyable as getting off himself.

Tony sunk into a nearby deck chair, drawing his robe around him and holding his mug of coffee close in the hopes that he might absorb the caffeine straight through the ceramic. Steve had woken up at a time of the morning that was only worth seeing from the other direction, and Tony had sent him down to the beach so he could catch a few more hours.

It was incredibly distracting sleeping next to someone that beautiful—and that horny—and Tony needed his rest if he was going to keep up with him. Of course, he hadn’t expected Steve to come down to the beach only to doze off down here instead. If he’d thought they could keep sleeping, he would rather have had Steve wrapped around himself, instead of around that towel.

Unable to resist the smooth planes of Steve’s back any longer, Tony abandoned his coffee cup and worked his way across the sand until he cast a shadow over Steve’s prone form. When Steve didn’t move he dropped down to straddle his lower back and run his hands over Steve’s shoulders and up to where the collar circled his neck. His hair was wet, but his skin was dry, save for a line of sweat down his back. He’d clearly been swimming, then came up on the beach to dry off—a job the sun had accomplished admirably.

Tony dipped down to press his lips to Steve’s ear. “You asleep, gorgeous?”

“Nuh,” was apparently all Steve could manage.

Tony chuckled. It seemed to be about 40% “yes, I’m absolutely asleep” and 60% “I’m completely awake, what can I do for you my amazing man, love of my life, epitome of perfection in human form?”

So, he might be reading a bit too much into it.

Still, there was something he wanted, something he wanted very much. And he knew a sure-fire way to wake Steve up enough to give it to him. He shuffled down until he was straddling Steve’s calves, following his path with flat palms and grinning when Steve hummed with pleasure.

The dopey purr snapped into a harsh gasp when Tony buried his face in Steve’s ass and licked a wet stripe over his hole. Steve’s hips rose into Tony’s hands and Tony smiled at how easily Steve gave into his neediness.

“Tonyyy,” he whined, trying to arch into the touch and find friction for his cock at the same time. Tony dug his fingertips in, holding Steve up and open, not letting him grind against the towel. He licked and sucked and teased Steve with his tongue, pulling back every time Steve choked out a needy cry, only to dive in again.

Steve’s little noises were getting increasingly desperate, and Tony couldn’t help pushing him as close to the edge as he could. Every press of his tongue swiped away a little more of what little control Steve had left, and he was begging wordlessly by the time Tony pulled away.

Tony slid off Steve’s legs and smacked his hip until he rolled over. The sight that met his eyes when Steve settled on his back blew his mind. Steve’s arm was tossed up over his forehead, keeping the blazing sun out of his eyes. Those eyes—those amazing eyes—were half-closed, slack, with pupils blown to black. The second he could, Steve settled those eyes on Tony and didn’t pull them away. His mouth was caught between a needy pout and a spacey grin.

He was fully hard, and the head of his cock was shiny with precum. “For fucks sake, Steve. I want you to look like this all the time.”

“It’s you,” Steve mumbled, and Tony couldn’t help but lean forward and press a kiss to those tempting lips. When Steve moaned into Tony’s mouth, he hooked the back of his neck and pulled the kiss deeper. He sucked Steve’s tongue into his mouth, letting his hip brush against his erection, then licked his way across Steve’s cheek to his ear.

“I need you. Get up, I want to fuck you against the pool house,” Tony whispered. Steve shuddered and whined. He gripped Tony’s arms and shifted on the towel, kicking his feet into the sand. Tony watched him struggle for a moment, then sat back to help him up, but Steve pulled him close instead.

“I—I can’t. ‘m sorry… I can’t.” Steve slumped back on the towel with distress creasing his forehead. “I’m sorry, Tony. I’m too—I need you, now. Please?”

Tony brushed Steve’s hair back with one hand. Steve looked utterly overwhelmed. “Shh, it’s okay. Wow, you’re really gone, aren’t you?”

Steve’s hands clenched on Tony’s arm. “I was—I was thinking about you before you came down. About yesterday, last night and—ah—I didn’t touch—I’m—I’m so.” He whimpered again. “Please?”

Memories of the last few days pushed their way into Tony’s mind too—Steve at his feet, under his hands, tied to his bed—and he had to agree that perhaps the pool house was too far away after all. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I got you. Roll over again.”

Steve obeyed with a shuddering moan, and Tony wasted no time beginning to tease his hole with a finger. When he found it too tight, despite his earlier ministrations, he scrabbled in his robe pockets, trying to find the bottle of lube he’d taken to carrying around all the time.

He braced himself with a flat palm on Steve’s lower back, and Steve groaned into the towel, letting himself be flattened by Tony’s weight. He just gave into it so freely. For all his strength and power, Tony could manhandle him any way he liked and Steve would just say, “Yes, Tony.”

“Fuck, Steve, I need to be inside you, like yesterday.” He fumbled the lube as he slicked his fingers, letting it fall to the side as he worked two into Steve. Steve groaned, but didn’t move. Every muscle in his body was lax under Tony, giving in entirely to the sensation, not seeking his own pleasure at all, leaving it entirely in Tony’s hands. Tony’s cock twitched against his thigh and he sucked in a harsh breath, willing his body to chill out until Steve was ready.

Luckily it wasn’t long before his fingers were sliding easily into Steve’s body and he pulled them away, rushed and over-eager, and pressed the head of his cock to Steve’s hole. He was hot and tight, but somehow loose and ready at the same time, and Tony bit down on his lip and scratched his nails down Steve’s limp back in an effort to release some of the tension coiled tight through his stomach.

Tony thrust forward, collapsing flat along Steve’s back so he could nip at his neck. He wanted to take it slow, but Steve’s little whimpers were too much and he moved forward harder and faster with each press. The hot sun broke out a sweat on the back of his neck. He braced his feet in the sand so he could fuck into Steve harder and tipped his chin up to take in the view. The endless ocean stretched out in front of them, bright blue and wild, crashing against the sand.

Tony wrapped one hand around Steve’s waist and buried the other in his hair, then pulled back, hauling him up to his knees. Steve leaned heavily against Tony’s chest, his head tipping back to rest against his shoulder. Tony ran his teeth along Steve’s neck, then dropped his hand from Steve’s waist to his cock. He was impossibly hard, and he cried out when Tony’s hand gripped him tight.

Tony wrapped his other hand around Steve’s neck, over the collar, and rocked into him, matching each press of hips with a stroke on Steve’s cock. It wasn’t long before Steve was spilling over Tony’s fist, shaking in his arms, his hands hanging limply at his sides. Steve was so far gone he barely reacted beyond turning his face into Tony’s neck and sighing, but Tony could feel his muscles clenching around him as his orgasm rippled through his body. Tony spread his knees, pushing Steve’s farther apart and dropped his hand to Steve’s inner thigh, smearing his come over his sweaty skin.

Tony’s pleasure built in waves, rolling through him in ever growing surges until it finally broke and he slammed into Steve one more time, coming deep inside.

Steve was a panting, sweating ragdoll, and Tony carefully maneuvered him back, flat on the towel. He made sure the other towel was tucked up under his head, the way Tony had found him. He got a little thrill from the idea that he could come down here, fuck Steve, then put him back, like a toy taken out of a drawer for a good time only.

He couldn’t help curling up against Steve’s side and resting a hand on his back to feel his breathing even out again. Blissed out was the only way to describe the man in his arms—utterly blissed out. He was stunningly beautiful and he was Tony’s. Tony suspected he was probably close to blissed out himself.

Chapter Six: Home

Steve put the last of the dishes on the rack, drying his hands on his apron before taking it off. It felt odd to wear anything, after days of being nude, but Tony had given him the apron with the order, “If you're in the kitchen, you need to protect that gorgeous cock.” And who was he to argue?

In the center of the private island was a beautiful cabin nestled into a cliff. Its open floor plan allowed Steve to see the the setting sun over the horizon through the living room windows. Tony sat on the couch, also watching the sunset, the tumbler of whiskey in his hand forgotten for the broad brushstrokes of vibrant colors. His robe was partially open and Steve could see the trail of hickeys Tony had ordered him to leave on his skin this morning, and it was like he could taste the skin again, feel Tony’s unforgiving grip on the back of his head.

As if sensing Steve's stare, Tony turned, smile stretching across his face when he noticed he had Steve's undivided attention. “Come here,” he said, gesturing to the pillow that had been fixed to the spot by Tony's feet all week. “Our plane is coming in a few hours but we still have time for you to read to me.” Steve let his pout show at the reminder of their departure, and Tony chuckled. “I would love to stay here forever too, but Assembling calls.”

“I know, I just…” he trailed off, there was nothing left to say that Tony didn't already know, that he wasn’t feeling himself.

“Come.” Steve followed the order, settling by his feet, and Tony ran a hand through his hair. “We can finish the chapter, and then work on bringing you up a bit.”

Steve hummed, focused more on the warmth of Tony's leg, than his words, rubbing his face into Tony's fabric covered thigh. The words finally penetrated Steve's haze when Tony's hand traced around his collar. “Bring me where?”

Tony stroked his hair in a way that further pressed his cheek into the robe, and chuckled. “You've been in subspace for days, Steve.”

Steve nodded, a hum emanating from his chest that sounded more like a purr. “I've loved every second.”

“I have too, I'd keep you at my feet forever if I could. But, it could take you a bit to adjust—Read now. We'll get to that later.”

Apparently, Tony had a whole collection of romance novels that featured men loving one another, and he had made it his mission to, “further Steve's homoerotic literature education.” Steve wondered if it was more that Tony liked hearing Steve's voice stumble over the raunchy scenes, than broadening Steve’s horizons.

Steve pulled the book from the coffee table, cleared his throat and straightened his posture. Tony’s hand fell to the muscles of his back, aimlessly trailing against Steve’s skin. A flood of warmth swelled in Steve’s chest and he knew that they’d be leaving soon, but he let the thought float away because Tony had said later, and Tony had said read; and wherever they went this feeling would follow. “Ennis jerked his hand away as though he'd touched fire, got to his knees, unbuckled his belt, shoved his pants down, hauled Jack onto all fours—Tony,” he stuttered, face flushing.

Tony smirked. “Are you going to leave them hanging? Go on.”

He took a deep breath. “—and, with the help of the clear slick and a little spit, entered him, nothing he'd done before but no instruction manual needed. ” Tony's fingers slipped around the collar, tickling the skin around the leather edges as he read, “They went at it in silence except for a few sharp intakes of breath and Jack's choked 'gun's goin off,' then out, down, and asleep.” And Tony was unbuckling the collar, cool air brushing against sensitive skin, the book being taken from his hands, as Tony lifted his chin, connecting their gaze.

“How do you feel, Steve?”

He was naked on his knees by Tony's side, how else could be feel? “Perfect.”

Tony laughed. “You look it, eyes still glazed over. Do you want to stay where you are or join me on the couch?”

The question didn't make sense at first, it had been so long since he had to make a decision. Focusing on the question pulled him up from the floating place he had come to know so well. He looked at the spot next to Tony, then at his kind eyes. It had been so long, longer than ever before, that he'd been made to give in, to take orders instead of give them. But now the collar was off, and when the collar was on that meant that he could float, drift. When it was off, he was in control. It wasn't taking him long to adjust after all; Steve knew what he wanted.

“I want to stay down here.” His voice was rough but firm, unfamiliar to his own ears. His gaze lowered from Tony’s face to the love bites on his neck, over his chest. He turned, lifted his hand to Tony's thigh, pulling at the robe so it revealed his bare skin. He thought of how much Tony had done for him, every new experience, new taste, new sensation. Tony had given him so much, and Steve knew that he loved it, that it made Tony hard to take care of Steve, to take Steve, any way he wanted, and Steve loved being good for Tony. But right now all he wanted to do was take the man in return. “I want—”

The collar was off, he was in control.

He pushed open Tony's legs, sliding into the space between them, and pushed open his robe. A gasp escaped from Tony’s lips, and Steve turned to meet his gaze as he lowered his mouth to Tony's cock. Tony’s feet kicked out in surprise, knocking into the coffee table and jostling the ice cubes in his whiskey; Steve chuckled from around his cock. Surprising Tony, taking Tony, it felt so good, and he swallowed again, Tony’s cock hitting the back of his throat.

Steve felt wild, one hand reaching out to grab Tony’s, circling his wrist and pinning it to the sofa. He forced moans out of Tony with every twist and swallow. But Steve wanted more, he wanted to take and he wanted to give, to thank Tony for this experience they’d shared together.

Tony’s robe had splayed open, and Steve slipped his hand into the nearby pocket, finding the bottle of lube that had contributed so much to Steve’s pleasure this past week. He kept his mouth on Tony’s cock, sucking the head with hollowed cheeks as he flipped open the top of the bottle. Taking his hand away from the base of Tony’s cock, he coated two fingers with lube, sucking on Tony all the while.

When Steve’s fingers pressed against the rim of his own hole, he moaned and Tony whimpered at the vibrations, eyes opening and narrowing when he realized what Steve was up to. “Are you getting yourself ready for me?” Tony asked, with the same trace of possession that always seemed to accompany Tony’s words when they played. And it spurred Steve on, made him pull back before he was ready and climb into Tony’s lap.

He bent over to kiss Tony, hands pushing him back into the couch, a little puff of breath escaping under super-soldier strength. Steve wasn’t ready, but he didn’t care, he wanted to take Tony, consume him, possess him, and the collar wasn’t on anymore, he wasn’t lax, and he wasn’t passive. Not now.

He lowered onto Tony’s cock in one smooth slide, their moans echoing in unison around the living room. Steve’s head fell back, but he straightened it, wanting to see Tony, watch him as Steve rode.

Tony stared, lips parted and chest heaving. One hand was on the couch where Steve had pinned it, and the other had fallen open on the cushion, his collar curled around his palm. He was looking at Steve with genuine surprise, and satisfaction rushed in Steve’s chest, making him want to take even more.

He lifted his body, pulling out so only the tip of Tony's cock remained before lowering again. His head threatened to fall back with pleasure again, but Steve wanted to see; he didn’t want to miss a moment. “So good, Tony.” The words slipped out and Tony’s hips jerked in response. “You treat me so good, take care of me, love me.” He kept the rhythm agonizingly slow, wanting to feel each inch of Tony as he slid in and out of his body. Tony kept trying to thrust up harder, until Steve put a hand on his hip. “You were so good to me, let me thank you.”

He could tell Tony wanted to move, but he let Steve hold him still, and Steve picked up the pace, building the friction between them. He twisted his hips and gasped when the next time he lowered, Tony’s cock brushed against his prostate. His body froze, leaning forward and Tony was chuckling. “You look so beautiful like this. Come on, Steve, take me, ride my cock until you come on it.” Steve moaned, thrashing on Tony’s cock and he felt Tony try to thrust again but Steve’s hand stayed firm. “Fuck, Steve, yea, take it. Pin me down and use me, thank me, tell me how much you liked bending at my every whim, how much you like being mine, my toy, my love, fuck Steve!”

The hot spurts of Tony’s orgasm slammed into Steve’s prostate and with a couple more thrusts Steve was following him over the edge, lines of his come landing on his stomach, a drop hitting right under the arc reactor and Steve groaned, folding over onto Tony’s shoulder. Tony finally moved his hands, wrapping his arms around Steve. He nuzzled into Tony’s neck, breathing him in, the tension, the urge to control, fading in the curve of Tony’s embrace. “I don’t want to go,” Steve admitted into the warm skin.

“Hey—” Tony rubbed a reassuring hand up and down his back. “We can come back anytime, and it’s not like there’s anything here that we can’t have at the tower. You want to be naked on the beach? Just say the words and I’ll Iron Man you to Malibu. Want to laze under the stars? We have options for that too.” His hand pulled at Steve’s chin so Tony could meet his eye. “We’re us. We can be us anywhere. We’ll go back and start planning our next vacation right away, anywhere you want.”

Steve perked up. “Really? Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.” Tony’s smile was infectious, and Steve knew he’d miss this, he’d always cherish the first time they existed in a world that comprised entirely of themselves. But here or there, the tower or any other place they may live in the future, it didn’t matter. Home was where Tony was.

Chapter Text

Tony had that smirk.

Steve set down the print Tony had bought him from the gallery, tossing aside the tube it had come in. The table was covered with a vast collection of souvenirs from their trip, but Steve stopped unpacking them and eyed the other man suspiciously. Tony stood by the couch, hands behind his back. Grinning.

“Everyone will be here any moment, Tony,” Steve reminded him, but he still abandoned the unpacking and walked around the couch to stand in front of him. Tony was his gravity now, he couldn’t help it. Didn’t want to.

“Knees,” Tony said quietly and Steve dropped. Then he sighed, nervous.

“Seriously, we don’t have time, what are you doing?” He squirmed, eyes flickering to the door. It could swing open at any moment and the rest of the Avengers would saunter through, see their captain on the floor at Tony’s feet. But he didn’t rise.

Tony’s hands came out from behind his back—he held the collar in one, and one of the red and gold metal balls in the other. “You don’t have to say yes, but if you do, I’ll take care of you.”

Steve felt the urge to look to the door again, but resisted, keeping his eyes fixed on Tony instead. Tony had a plan. It would be okay. And, god, he wanted it so badly. He was rock hard already. “Yes.”

Tony pressed forward and hooked the collar around his neck, then used two fingers under Steve’s chin to bring him back to his feet. He handed him the ball. “Both hands, behind your back.” Once Steve complied, rolling the smooth, familiar shape between his palms, Tony pointed to the couch. “Sit.”

Steve fell back, arms still behind his back. His own weight crushed them into the cushions and he slumped down and shifted his shoulders wider to ease the pressure. His back was to the door now; all he could see was Tony.

Tony’s eyes glinted mischievously but now that Steve really looked he could see: Tony’s pupils were blown, his breath was hitching, his bottom lip was pink where he’d been chewing at it. The sight punched a groan out of Steve as he rapidly climbed the peak of his own arousal, meeting Tony there, panting and hard.

Tony moved quickly, undoing Steve’s pants and shoving them down his thighs. Steve moaned when his hot hand wrapped around his cock. He yearned to touch him back, but he kept both hands pressed around the ball. “They’re going to be here soon,” he whimpered, arching his hips up.

Tony smirked again. “I wonder what they’d think, seeing you laid out like this. Begging, needy, dripping.”  While Steve worked up a tremendous blush at the thought, Tony slid forward to straddle his lap, a knee squeezed tight on either side of Steve’s hips.

Tony unzipped his own pants and pulled his cock out. Steve whimpered when he saw how hard Tony was, then moaned when Tony added his own cock to his grip. Steve could feel every inch of Tony, hard and leaking against him, plus the eager slide of his hand wrapped around them both.

Tony stroked just this side of not fast enough, not hard enough, and Steve bit his lip and struggled against the urge to move. He wanted to pull Tony into a kiss, or add his own hand to their cocks, or just grab, but he couldn’t. He squeezed the ball until his palms hurt, straining against his own will to obey.

Tony’s eyes flicked to the door a few times and Steve felt his heart rate skyrocket at the thought that someone might be there. But the little shots of panic only worked him up faster until he was a moaning, writhing mess.

“You should see yourself right now,” Tony said, his eyes flicking tortuously between Steve’s face and the door. “If someone came in right now, they’d see you. I can step away, fix myself. I can slip into the bedroom and they’ll never know, but you’re trapped here. You wouldn’t move unless I told you to, would you, Steve?”

“Nuh—No,” Steve choked out, trapped in the double vice grip of humiliation and arousal.

“They’d see you hard and begging—I bet you’d even let them watch you beg for it, you’re so needy—eyes wild, cock out, all alone with your arms behind your back. Maybe I should stop? Fuck your mouth, then leave you here to be found like this. You liked it when the flight attendants saw you on the plane. What if your teammates found you, though? Their eyes would be all over you. Maybe they’d help you, maybe they’d use you too and leave you here, unsatisfied. How long could you take it, Steve?”

Steve moaned, his neck and cheeks on fire, his breath caught somewhere low in his lungs where he couldn’t squeeze it out again. “Please…” he begged, tipping his hips ever so slightly into Tony’s grip. “Please.”

“If you don’t come when I tell you to, I’m going to do just that. I’m going to leave you here for anything to happen. Are you going to come when I tell you to?”

“Yes,” Steve panted out, his hands clenching around the ball. And suddenly he was there, he needed to come, but he held back, waited for Tony’s command. Impossibly, he waited.

Tony used his spare hand to pull a silk handkerchief out of his pocket and brushed it over the head of Steve’s cock before wrapping it around both of them. Steve thought he might be swearing, might be screaming, might be sobbing. He didn’t care at all anymore whether someone came in the room or not, he just hung his entire being on Tony’s lips, waiting, desperate, for the command.

Tony groaned, his rhythm faltering, then Steve felt a pulse of hot come spill over his cock and it took everything in him not to let go right then. Finally, blissfully, Tony leaned forward and whispered, his voice rough and broken, “Come for me, Steve. Now. Come for me,” and Steve was gone.

He was still squirming and bucking into the aftershocks when Tony abruptly slid off Steve’s lap and zipped himself back up, tucking in and smoothing his shirt. He did the same for Steve, hurriedly straightening his clothes before pressing their lips together—hard and needy—then hitting the release for the collar. It opened and slid off, just as the door opened and the other’s voices wafted into the room.

A shot of adrenaline sent Steve leaping to his feet. He gave them both a once over. They looked rumpled but not indecent—the rest of the team probably wouldn’t catch the glint in Tony’s eye, or the slight heave to Steve’s chest. He tucked the ball in his pants pocket, rolling tingly stiffness out of his abused shoulders. He watched as Tony tucked the collar and the soiled handkerchief in his own pockets.

The gang swarmed in and greeted them warmly, welcoming them back from their trip, wishing Steve a happy birthday. Clint and Thor settled on the couch, demanding pictures be shown while Natasha pulled Steve into a hug. She smiled at him as she pulled away. It was a coy, knowing smile and Steve blushed, wondering if she somehow knew what they had just finished doing.

Or maybe she knew about the massive pile of still-wrapped packages that awaited Steve’s attention; Tony hadn’t been exaggerating about the gifts, and he’d promised Steve they’d open them together…later.

While they all chatted, Steve’s eyes found themselves fixed on Tony’s pocket, knowing what was hidden in there, thrilling at the memory of what they’d just done. It had been so close—had Tony somehow known when they’d arrive? Or was he playing a very risky game? Steve’s heart kicked into overdrive as Tony’s hand dropped to his pocket, slid in, wrapped around the come-stained handkerchief Steve knew was there. He looked up and caught Tony’s eye and ignited again at the fire he found there. It was a long time before his pounding heart rate returned to normal.

Chapter Text

“Fuck, Steve,” Tony groaned, hand gripping Steve’s neck, pushing his face into their mattress. He’d made Steve come on his cock moments ago, and a stripe of it had landed on his cheek. Now Tony leaned down to lick it, biting at his jawbone when he finished. Steve felt tight, warm, and so, so pliant, still blissed out from his orgasm. Tony knew he’d be following him over the edge soon, he had been fucking Steve for too long and teasing him for even longer.

“So tight, and the way you take my cock—” Tony growled, biting at Steve’s collar then pushing back so he could grab his shoulder and fuck him in long, hard strokes. “I’m going to come.” He accompanied each word with a brutal thrust as pleasure built at the base of his cock. “I’m going to come so hard, fill you up. You’ll be dripping down your thighs.”

Tony shifted and when he slammed back in, he hit Steve’s prostate dead on causing Steve to clench around him, the tightness almost unbearable, and his vision whited out for a second. “Fuck, Steve, you have no idea. Look at you, spread out before me like the slut you are, how could I not take you hard? How could I not fuck you filthy?”

Steve arched his back with Tony’s words, changing their angle entirely, making the head of his cock catch on Steve’s rim and he couldn’t hold back, didn’t even try, let every word that came to mind fall from his lips. “I’m going to fill you up, but I don’t want it dripping down your thighs anymore. No.” He tightened his hand around Steve’s hip, and reached into the nightstand. The plug he'd given Steve for his birthday was easy enough to find, and when he pulled it out he made sure Steve could see it.

Steve’s eyes widened before closing and he let out a guttural moan.

“Oh, you like this, huh?” Tony teased. “The idea of being filled by me, plugged, a reminder every time you move that you are mine. That I’ve claimed you.” Tony spurred himself on with his own words, thrusts turning wild, uncontrolled.

Steve’s gaze was on him, as much as it could be with his face pressed into the mattress. His pupils were blown, face flushed and wet from sweat and come and saliva, lips parted with each heaving breath. He did that. He fucked Steve into this gorgeous, mess of a man. His pace increased, chasing it over the edge and he was coming to the look on Steve’s face, following through on his promise to fill him up.

“Clench,” he whispered the order, voice low. Steve gasped, following it without a thought as Tony pulled out. It was too tempting not to stretch Steve’s cheeks, watch his hole pucker around his effort to stay tight and see how good Steve was being for Tony. He wanted to lick, kiss, distract Steve until he couldn't follow his order anymore, but he wanted this more.

He blindly grabbed for the lube, applying a coat around the plastic triangular shape until he hit its flared bottom.

“Tony,” Steve whined from the bed, hips moving with want and Tony swatted at his ass.

“You’re ready when I say you’re ready,” he chuckled. And he looked ready, like he was aching for the plug, a flush covering his entire body. Steve groaned when Tony finally took pity on him, slid the toy through the clenched ring of muscle. “So good,” Tony whispered, twisting, and Steve’s body opened, beads of come trying to escape against the plug. Tony slid it in quickly, then moved his hands so that Steve’s hole disappeared back behind his cheeks. Tony swatted his ass again, before rolling off the bed. Steve turned onto his hip to watch as Tony slipped on his shirt.

“Are we still going out?” Steve asked, stretching on the bed. The corner of his mouth quirked, when he met Tony’s eye again. He looked like he should be chiseled out of marble, all lithe and inviting. “I can feel it every time I move.”

“Good. That’s the point.” Tony smiled. “And whether we go out is entirely up to you.”

Steve’s blue eyes darkened, hungry with his own desire and displaying it in a way he usually hid behind a blush as he considered his options. “I want to go out.”

Tony’s grin spread wide and lascivious. He moved towards the closet, sifting through Steve’s clothes until he found what he was looking for. He threw the khaki pants and blue polo towards Steve. “Get dressed.”

Once downstairs, the sun beat down on them both, summer in New York was always unforgiving, and Tony could not care in the slightest. He was laser focused on Steve; the way he leaned into Tony, how he couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze, the flush on his cheeks that could easily be contributed to the hot day.

Tony wanted him again. Already, his hands itched around his phone, eager to pull out the plug and add another round for it to hold. Fuck, it was almost too much to think about. He had to fist his free hand, fingernails pressing into his palm so he could focus. It hardly worked, Steve was walking around the streets of New York with Tony’s claim all over him, inside and out.

They found a bench near the edge of the park and Tony had Steve spread their blanket onto the grass by it. Steve sat cross legged while Tony slid onto the bench behind him. When Steve turned to catch his eye, his smile was wide and slightly wild, so Tony let his hand fall into his hair, stroking in an easy rhythm.

Steve shifted back so he faced away from Tony and the small movement caused a faint moan to fall from his lips, even as he pulled a sketchbook from their bag, flipping it open. Tony pulled his phone back out from his pocket, and they were just another couple in the park on a Sunday afternoon. Nothing going on here.

Steve shifted again.

Tony pressed his lips against a smile, and let his hand fall to Steve’s shoulder as the man drew.

The shadows moved across the lawn, and Steve’s shifting picked up in pace. With every move, Tony imagined his come spreading into Steve, rubbing, absorbing into his body as the plug pressed into his prostate.Tony knew that Steve was thinking of their morning, of Tony.

A soccer ball rolled from the grass onto Steve’s blanket and Tony adored the way Steve winced when he leaned over to grab it. Tony was admiring Steve's ass, just noticing a faint outline of the plug through his khaki pants, when the ball’s owner approached them. He was all dark eyes and a coy smile, aimed right at Steve, and Tony nearly growled. He wanted to pull Steve back onto the blanket and take him right there in the park, fill him up and plug him up again. But all Tony could do was sit there and watch Steve smile as he passed the ball to the stranger.

Steve turned back, walking on his knees towards Tony, biting his lip as the plug shifted inside him. When he reached Tony, his rested his hands on his knees and smiled up adoringly.

Tony had the urge to grip him by the shoulder and press his face into the blanket, show everyone that this man and his perfect smile belonged to Tony.

And fuck, he always felt possessive, but the feeling had only increased tenfold since they’d returned from their vacation, and Steve had been so busy he was spending more and more time at SHIELD and less and less time with Tony.

Steve was rocking on his legs, his adoring smile shifting into something more needy, lips parted and wet. He wanted Tony; sitting in a park on a Sunday afternoon with a plug up his ass, and maybe he’d let Tony take him right there on the blanket.

But that wasn’t what they were going to do.

“Come on,” was all he said and he knew Steve would follow.

Across the park, there was a single stall bathroom affixed to a cafe, and Tony felt Steve pull up to his side when he stopped in front of it. Tony wrenched open the door, pushed Steve inside and had his chest pressed to the other side of the door before it was even fully closed. Tony pushed down Steve’s pants and boxers in one smooth go, and his fingers sought out the plug, pressing against it until Steve moaned against the bathroom door.

“So good for me, all stretched and loose.” Tony traced his finger where his rim met the plug. “You’re all lubed up too, huh Steve? Have my come in there, keeping you drenched, making sure you’re nice and ready.”

“Fuck, Tony,” Steve cried, and a trail of spit spread across the door as he pressed his face against it and arched into Tony. “Please. Want you so bad. Want more. Wanted you to take me out there. I almost couldn’t wait.”

His words shot a spark through Tony’s body, and his motions turned frantic. He pulled at his pants, almost breaking the zipper, and grabbed his cock, positioning it until it pressed against the toy. “Is this what you want?” he whispered into Steve’s ear, biting at the sensitive skin.

“Yes,” Steve hissed, pressing back into Tony. “Please, the plug feels good but it's not enough, I need more.”

“Yeah, yeah you do.” Tony’s voice was thick and he swallowed, the sight of Steve shaking and needy and begging, almost making him come on the spot. He took a deep breath. “I’m going to pull this out now, but I need you to clench, just like before, do you think you can do that for me?”

“Yes, Tony!” Steve moaned. “Anything.”

His fingers gripped the flared base, twisting slightly. “You don’t want to lose a single drop, isn’t that right?” Steve was nodding into the door, words forgotten as Tony slowly removed the plug.

“Just like that. So good. Hold tight.” Tony fisted the toy in one hand and used the other to line up his cock, pushing right against his clenched hole. “Tell me.”

“Fuck, Tony! Please, please fill me up. Give me more, please. I want, I need-- I feel so full but I want more. I want--”

And he pushed past the rim into Steve’s used hole, the feel of it covering his cock with warmth and wetness and Steve.

Neither of them lasted long. Tony whispered a litany of filth into Steve’s ear while he moaned against the bathroom door. Steve came into Tony’s hand and Tony followed shortly after. Steve clenched beautifully when Tony pushed the plug back into his abused hole.

They washed up as best they could and straightened their clothes by the door. Tony paused for a moment, one hand around the doorknob, and the other pressing into Steve’s ass. He leaned into Steve’s ear. “Smile at Soccer Boy as we walk out, love. Make sure he knows that you’re all mine.”

Chapter Text

Chapter One

Tony was not jealous.

Just this morning, he’d woken to Steve’s lips around his cock. He was fully hard and thrusting before he even realized it wasn’t a dream. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Steve’s pink lips stretched around him and a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

The first thing he did with his day was wrap his hand into Steve’s hair and fuck his mouth. Steve sucked harder in response, following Tony’s silent demand to pick up the pace. God, he was so good, just the right amount of suction and teeth and Tony couldn’t resist reaching down, tracing the sensitive skin where the collar usually sat. He had the idle thought of reaching for it, securing it around Steve’s neck as he came down his throat, and the image alone was enough to push him over the edge.

Steve sucked at Tony until his hand tightened in Steve’s hair, pulling him back. Then, Tony flipped them so Steve rested beneath him and the first thing he tasted was Steve’s cock when he took all of him down in one delicious swallow, deepthroating until Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head and he came down Tony’s throat.

It was a glorious start to any day. He rolled from the bed, while Steve stretched and reached for his phone.  But then Steve’s lips turned with a worried frown, and with it Tony’s day turned too. “Everything all right--?”

“Bucky’s awake.” Steve looked from the phone to Tony, eyes wide with too many emotions to name.

Tony nodded once, his stomach churning in a way that didn’t quite make sense, because Barnes waking up was a good thing, at least if he was more Sergeant than Winter Soldier. This was a good thing for Steve, hell it was a good thing for the country, having the Soldier out of commission. And the way Steve’s expression had brightened with a hesitant hope, biting on his lip as he blindly tugged on his shoes...Tony’s feelings didn’t matter here, and he was already reaching for his keys and wallet. “Come on, let's go.”

At the hospital, Tony waited in the hallway. The blinds to Bucky’s room were open, and he could see Barnes sitting up, looking far better than Tony had expected. He looked at Steve with a hint of a smile, wistful, like Steve was temporary. When anyone else entered the room, Bucky Barnes transformed back into the Winter Soldier, eyes hardening and fist clenching. Tony watched Steve watch it happen, face crumbling with a heartbreak that he quickly masked before Barnes could see it.

Steve met Tony’s gaze through the window, red-rimmed eyes searching, asking something Steve wouldn’t ask with words, so he asked with a hundred different micro-expressions instead. Tony nodded. Of course he nodded; Steve wanted, and how could Tony not give Steve everything he wanted?

They were taking Bucky Barnes back to the tower.

That afternoon, Tony left Steve to help Barnes get settled and he paced in the penthouse for five whole minutes before his excess energy and tornado of thoughts propelled him back out of the room. As soon as the elevator door opened onto the common room, Tony wished he had pressed the button for the workshop instead.

Natasha sat on the counter of the kitchen, legs hanging off the edge, a book in her hand. Her eyes went to him as soon as he stepped into the living room, scanning him from head to toe, extra attention on the stress in his shoulders and the black shadows under his eyes.

“Rough morning?” she asked, turning the page.

“I wouldn’t call this morning the rough part,” he mumbled under his breath, walking by her towards the coffeemaker, grabbing a fresh pot a bit too forcibly, and sloshing some over the rim.

“Where’s your Steve?” she asked, turning another page.

“He’s helping Barnes get settled.” He stared past the edge of his mug, remembering where he had left them, trailing behind as they shared some story of a “real ritz” they once knew who lived in Manhattan. It was all too much, Tony had fallen back, let them wander towards the gym without him.

Natasha finally looked up from her book, temporarily closing it over her finger. “Not acting as welcome-wagon to Steve’s pet assassin, then?”

“I’m giving them some space.”

Natasha sighed in response, and Tony walked towards the window, looking over the New York skyline. A silence followed her sigh, and it weighed heavily in the room.

“What?” he turned towards her again, and the wry amusement was clear on her face.

“You designed the building, Tony. No one is better equipped to give the man a tour.” She slid from the counter, joining Tony by the window.

“Steve’s handling it,” Tony replied, unable to wipe the frown from his face even though he knew Natasha would see it, would read a thousand things into it.

“And you’re upset by this,” Natasha concluded. “You usually like how he handles things.” She reminded, nudging his shoulder with her own. He knew what she was doing, trying to make him smile, make him think of something, anything, other than the fact that Steve was not at his side, at his heel, his fingertips.

“And I like how he’s handling this.”

“Yet you're frowning.”

He took a sip of his coffee, watching a bird land on a rooftop across the way. “Maybe I’d rather he be handling other things,” he admitted, with a cheeky wink. “I’ve never been good at sharing my things.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Nat said with a smirk

Tony chuckled. “Well, in the right circumstances, with the right person, it’s a different matter.”

“Is that an invitation?” Her question was teasing, but he could see the faint blush on her cheeks.

Thoughts of Natasha with Steve flooded Tony’s mind, and not a single one of them made him feel as uncertain as the wistful smile Bucky Barnes had given Steve back at the hospital.

Natasha cut off his train of thought. “If you want him, order him down here.”

“Wouldn’t do it, even if I wanted to. This isn’t one of those things.” He leaned his head against the window, let it bang once, twice. “I know he’s going to be busy with this. I’m just being needy.”

Natasha raised her eyebrow. “Is that all?”

The elevator chimed again, and Natasha and Tony both turned to watch the doors open. Steve walked into the room, stopping when he realized Bucky had frozen behind him. Bucky glared at Natasha, then at Tony, then back at his feet.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice was so soft, caring. His hand outstretched for Barnes to take. “It’ll be okay.” Tony’s stomach flipped.

“Just needy, huh?” he heard Nat mutter to herself.

But Natasha had no idea what she was talking about.

He was not jealous.

Chapter Two

Steve would never cheat.

Tony knew this absolutely. And it would be cheating because they’d had The Conversation. Steve had even been the one to initiate it. Tony knew this because he’d watched the recording of their talk after the club, perhaps several hundred times more than was necessary (if he’d watched the blow job after a few times also, well, that was nobody’s business but his own).

After that, every time Tony said, “you’re mine,” and every time Steve said, “I’m yours,” Tony was saying, ”my only,” and Steve was saying, “only yours.” So Steve being with anyone else would be cheating. And Steve would never cheat.

It wasn’t the thought of Steve sleeping with Bucky that was making Tony’s stomach churn like a washing machine with an unbalanced load. Bizarrely—it was bizarre and awful—it was the thought that he, Tony, was the one who was stopping them.

Because Steve would never cheat, and Steve had made a promise to Tony, and Bucky had been dead. But now Bucky very much wasn’t dead anymore. He was here, in the tower, wandering Tony’s halls, eating Tony’s food, and spending all of his time with Tony’s Steve.

Tony slumped in his chair and twisted Steve’s collar between his hands, fidgeting with the places where the leather met vibranium. He let all the horrible thoughts he’d shoved in a box while they got Bucky settled finally break free to ricochet around in his mind.

Steve and Bucky had been together during the war, maybe before. Steve didn’t talk about the war much, but over the eight months they’d been together, Tony had pieced things together. The way Steve talked about Bucky—when he talked about him at all—there was no question, he was the love of Steve’s life.

Now he was back, and Tony couldn’t help wondering if this collar had become a cage for Steve. Steve loved him, Tony didn’t doubt that, but Tony had resigned himself to being Steve’s second love, and he was okay with that. But what do you do when the first comes back?

You let go, right?

Because Steve deserved to be happy - not just happy, the happiest he could possibly be. And maybe with Tony he was happy, but with Bucky…

And Steve would never cheat. And Steve would never walk away from Tony, unless he was properly miserable, because that was the kind of guy he was. And that was the kind of guy Tony loved. And Tony wanted him to be happy.

But he wanted Steve to be happy with him, dammit.

He tipped forward until his forehead hit the desk, the collar still wrapped around his hand.

How could he say, “I love you, don’t leave me,” but, “if you need to, let me go”? Could Tony even say it and mean it? What if Steve thought he was saying he had to go?

Worst of all, could Tony bear seeing them together? His fingers tightened on the collar, the leather squeaking in his grasp. If they broke—if they stopped, this wouldn’t be like the end to any normal relationship. Tony couldn’t just unfriend him on Facebook and then pretend he hadn’t noticed him when they passed each other at Starbucks.

They lived together, they worked together, they fought together. God, how could he have screwed this up so spectacularly? It had crossed his mind that they might not make it to forever, of course it had. But it never occurred to him that he’d have to see Steve, in his own home, every day, finding happy with someone else.

He would have to see them walking down the hall hand-in-hand or curled up on the couch together watching a movie. Catch them pink and flushed, springing away from each other as the elevator doors unexpectedly opened before their floor.

No, he couldn’t. He’d have to leave. Or ask them to leave. He could set them up in a nice apartment in Brooklyn (assuming there were nice apartments in Brooklyn). Or he could hole up on the island—though moving to the cabin where Steve had spent an entire week, naked and at his mercy, would be enough pathetic wallowing that Pepper would probably drag him back herself. Malibu then. The Iron Man armour could get him back to New York in minutes, if they needed him. He didn’t have to be here.

He couldn’t be here.

Movement on his computer screen pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. His security feed had woken up: Steve, entering their apartment. He glanced at the clock. It was late, Bucky had probably gone to bed so Steve had come upstairs.

Tony could only assume; he’d blocked JARVIS from being able to show him security feed of Bucky’s space unless it was an emergency. He didn’t want to be tempted into spying in a moment of weakness. Partly because he trusted Steve with every fiber of his being, and partly because seeing Steve light up when Bucky entered the room or smile at him like he was everything right with the world, would absolutely send him back to heavy drinking.

He needed to talk to Steve, find the right words to set him free, somehow not break down and ugly cry all over his star-spangled ass.

He needed to talk to him. Soon.

“Sir,” JARVIS interrupted. “Captain Rogers is enquiring as to whether you'll be joining him tonight, or not.”

Tony stared at the video screen in front of him. He watched Steve pour a glass of water and pad barefoot across their apartment to gaze out the huge picture window. He was everything Tony wanted. "Tell him I'm busy, not to wait up."

"Yes, sir."

Chapter Three

Tony was definitely hiding.

Steve took a deep breath and tried not to growl when he let it out. For three days Tony had been giving him the brush-off. At first, Steve had been too busy helping Bucky get settled to notice, but by the end of the second day, when Tony failed to appear in bed yet again, it became clear: Tony was avoiding him.

Steve knew there were no Avengers contracts keeping him busy, no pressing projects. Besides, Tony’s rhythm had changed since they got together. Tony rarely binge-engineered for more than a few hours these days before he was storming into Steve’s space, either ranting maniacally about his work going well, grumbling about things not going to plan, or tearing Steve’s clothes off and pushing him onto the bed. Three days was a long time to go without Tony’s voice filling the room.

Or Tony’s cock filling his ass.

And Steve had been feeling good. Bucky was settling in well, or at least as well as could be expected. He was still jumpy around other people, but he had accepted Steve as Steve right away, even digging up some old memories for them to share. The fact that he was alive was a miracle, but alive and himself...

And it was all being ruined by one, absent engineer.

Well, he’d indulged Tony’s little temper-tantrum—whatever it was about—for three days now and he wouldn’t anymore. If Tony wouldn’t come to him, he’d go to Tony.

“JARVIS, is Tony in the workshop?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And if I go down, is he going to let me in?”

There was a slight pause before JARVIS said, “Of course, Captain,” and Steve wondered if the AI had been asking Tony. That made him worry a little. If Tony was in one of his anti-social moods, that was one thing, but if he was mad at Steve for some reason...He frowned at their empty bed.

By the time he made it downstairs he was irritated again. They were partners now, a team, and it was up to Tony to tell him when he wasn’t happy. If he needed time, or space, that was fine, Steve could give it to him, but why couldn’t he have just said so? Instead, he had JARVIS pass notes up that he was too busy to come to bed, yet again.

Steve pushed open the workshop door, letting his anger propel him all the way across the room and to Tony’s side. Tony’s eyes stayed resolutely on his computer screen, a miserable twist to his mouth. When he said nothing, Steve took a steadying breath. “So, what’d I do?”

Tony frowned at the blueprints in front of him, opened his mouth, closed it again, then sighed, deflated. His hollow expression melted into sadness. “You didn’t do anything,” he said softly.

Steve felt all the fight go out of him in a rush. Tony stared mournfully at his keyboard and Steve’s stomach twisted. Something was really wrong. “Tony, tell me. Please?” His hand flicked towards Tony’s shoulder, but he pulled it back without touching, uncertain.

Tony turned sharply, facing Steve and meeting his eyes for the first time. He was smiling now, but it wasn’t a real smile. “I have to say a thing. And I’m going to fuck it up and say it wrong, almost certainly, so there’s that, sorry about that. But this thing. I need you to know that you can, you know, if you need to. Go, that is. I mean I won’t try to stop you. That’s a lie, I probably will. But I shouldn’t. I’m trying to not want to, I really am. Because you deserve to be happy and if it’s better if we’re not together, if you would be happier…then yeah, you should be. Free. I can let you go. I think. I’ll try.”

Steve’s head spun and his stomach churned threateningly. It was gibberish, but it was Tony gibberish, and Steve wasn’t fluent yet, but he was conversational in Tony gibberish, and he didn’t like the sound of that at all. It sounded like Tony was trying to convince him to leave. His eyes felt hot and a tight band wound around his ribs and was rapidly getting tighter. “What are you—?" he cut off when he realized how wrecked his voice sounded. He swallowed, pushing down the hard knot in his throat and tried again. “Tony, are you telling me I should…leave you? Are you—are you trying to break up with me?”

“No!” Tony looked temporarily panicked, then schooled his expression back into the empty smile. “Unless that would make you happier?”

“Happier than what?! I don’t understand. Why would I be happier if I left you? You’re—you’re everything to me. I don’t—I—Don’t push me away, please.“ Steve knew he was starting to sound desperate now, but his brain had hooked somewhere around “leave” and was shaking that thought around like a dog with a stuffed toy, not leaving much space for anything else.

“Steve…I’m not—“ Tony ran a tense hand through his hair, the fake smile finally fading away, but leaving pain in its wake. “I’m not pushing you away. I don’t want that. This isn’t—you’re not wearing the collar, this is just you and me, okay? I need you to know I’m not telling you to do anything.” Steve nodded and Tony went on. “I never want to be the reason for your unhappiness. That would kill me. Making you happy…sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing I’ve got going for me. So, the thought that I could be making you unhappy instead, that kills me.”

“I’m not unhap—” Steve started, but Tony cut him off, holding up a hand.

“Let me just. I need to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you know, that if now, or ever, there’s someone who can make you happier than I can, someone you’re meant to be with, that you won’t let me stop you. Cause I love you too much for that, Steve. I can’t stand the idea that you’d feel shackled to me when your heart wanted something else.”

Movement caught Steve’s eye, and he realized Tony was holding his collar, twisting it between his fingers. Steve reached out and stilled his hands, gripping the collar with one hand between both of Tony’s. Tony fell silent, and Steve rewound and replayed his speech in his head, trying to figure out the source, the change, the—

Bucky.

Three days. This had all started two days after Bucky had moved into the tower.

“Tony.” Steve paused, choosing his words carefully. “Are you trying to tell me that I should leave you for Bucky?”

Tony made a tiny squeaking noise, like a mouse underfoot, but he nodded. “If that would make you happy. I don’t want to be the one standing between you and your soulmate.”

And that was it. Steve couldn’t help it, he broke out laughing.

Tony flinched back like he’d been stung, but Steve kept a firm grip on the collar which stopped Tony from moving too far.

“But you are!” Steve exclaimed, still laughing. “Tony…” His voice softened. “You are my soulmate. You want me to be happy? Let me be with you. Stop hiding, come to bed, love me back, that will make me happy. You are standing between me and my soulmate by locking yourself down here and leaving me alone in our apartment.” He reached out and cupped his palm around Tony’s cheek. When Tony leaned into the touch, Steve dropped to his knees, shifting until he was between Tony’s thighs, held safe in the cage of his legs.

Tony swallowed hard and ran his thumb over Steve’s cheekbone and across his lips. “But Bucky—"

Steve cut him off. “Bucky nothing. Tony, Bucky is straighter than Clint’s aim. He’s actually got a massive crush on that one barista at the corner Starbucks which is why we have to go there four times a day. Not because Bucky is fascinated by modern coffee culture, but because he’s a sucker for long hair and a big smile. Bucky is my best friend. And I thought I’d lost him so I can’t even tell you how grateful I am to have him back. But that’s what he is—my friend. Nothing else.”

Tony frowned, his eyes dropping back to the collar he still held tight. “But you were together, before, in the army.”

“No, we weren’t. I don’t—Wait. Did you think the man I talked about—the one with the colonel thing—did you think that was Bucky?”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No.” Steve watched the gears clicking in Tony’s brain.

“Oh.”

“Yeah…that was…someone else. And if you want to know more about him—or about Bucky—all you have to do is ask, but Tony? You have to ask. You have to stop putting thoughts in my brain, assuming you know what I’m thinking. We’re both bad at that, and we’re trying, I think we’re getting better, but this? Three days.”

“I know.” Tony let out a long breath, and most of the tension came out of his shoulders as he did. “I know. I’m sorry. I got jealous, I guess. I got scared. I thought it would be easier to let you go, than watch you leave…”

“In the impossible scenario that I want to be set free from you, I’ll ask. I’ll talk to you about it. I promise. Until I do, I’m yours—no second guessing. I need to know that you have me, Tony. I—I’m not sure I can get by without you anymore. You make me feel safe. I love you.”

Tony’s hand stroked over Steve’s jaw, along his neck, then up to furrow through his hair. “I love you too.”

“Good.” Steve nuzzled at his thigh, relief washing away the anger and doubt and fear, leaving warmth in its wake. He had missed this so much, the feel of Tony’s hands running through his hair, kneeling by his feet. It didn’t take long for his body to remember: three whole days. “Well, now that we have that settled…” Steve trailed off, running his hands over Tony’s thighs. He thought back to the last time they’d touched each other, that blow job he had given him the morning Bucky had woken up. Tony had taken control, wrapping his hand around Steve’s head, forcing his hips up, and Steve had let him, Steve always let him, because Steve loved it.

But now when he unzipped Tony’s pants, Tony’s words were on his mind. This was where he wanted to be, collar or not. And he wanted Tony to know it. “I missed this, Tony.” He bent down and licked around the head of his cock. Above him, Tony’s eyes widened, gaze fixed on Steve. “I love you so much. You told me once that all I had to do to get what I want was ask, and I’m asking you right now,” he whispered, licking another line around Tony’s cock. “Trust me when I say I’m exactly where I want to be. You’re not my second choice. The collar is not what’s keeping me here.” He took the collar from where it lay forgotten in Tony’s hand and placed it gently on the nearby desk. “And we are more than one aspect of our relationship.”

It was sincere and sentimental, and Steve wondered if Tony even understood what he was trying to say with the gesture, but his brown eyes were wide and open, and he was nodding like he finally believed Steve when he said that this was exactly where he wanted to be.

Steve was hard in his own khakis, not a building need or a distraction, just a reminder that he was here, kneeling by Tony, cock in his mouth, exactly where he should be.

Tony was his. The thought that he could doubt that, doubt them…. He sucked harder before sliding off entirely, twisting his hand around Tony's cock and forcing a moan out of him. “Where else would I want to be but here, Tony? On my knees between your legs, taking everything you want to give me.” He stroked harder, recalling Tony's words from earlier, knowing it would be quite some time until he forgot them. Above him, Tony's cheeks were flushed, his lips parted. “You think you can get rid of me that easily? I'm yours. And I'm not going anywhere.”

It only took a few more strokes, and Tony was coming hot and quick all over Steve's face. He felt the thick stripes against his cheek, along his eyelashes, and he loved it. Tony’s chest heaved with ragged breaths. He looked down at Steve in wonder, and it made him want to preen. He fluttered his eyelashes and watched as Tony’s eyes darkened despite his orgasm, the evidence of which still covered Steve’s face.

He leaned back on his heels, so Tony could see the mess he’d made. Tony loved to watch, to see his claim on Steve. He gazed up at Tony, all sprawled out, still in his work jeans and tee, his spent cock out for the world to see; Steve did that.

When he caught Tony’s eye again, he knew the man saw how much he liked the look of him. Tony’s hand drifted down to wipe his come from Steve’s bottom lip, to drag across his cheeks and over his eyebrow. He looked awed in a way he hadn’t ever really seen before. “I’m yours.”

“Yes, Tony.”

Chapter Text

“Lie down.” Tony’s voice was gentle, but commanding. Steve felt a thrill power up his spine. The same thrill he always got when Tony took control.

He sunk back into the workshop couch, kicking his feet up over the armrest, and wriggling down until he was comfortable. His hand flicked up so his fingers could brush lightly across the collar that circled his throat.

Tony sat on the edge of the cushion, his hip pressed into Steve’s side. He bent down and kissed him. It was gentle and sweet and soft, and Steve found himself sighing with pleasure, then chasing Tony’s lips as he pulled away.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.”

Steve obeyed, plunging the world into darkness. He felt soft fabric brush across his face. Tony hooked a hand behind his neck, tipped him forward, fussed with something behind his head, then set him back down on the arm rest.

A blindfold.

The fabric was silky and smooth, but even with his eyes closed he could tell how opaque it was. The lights of the workshop no longer glowed red behind his eyelids. He flickered his eyelids a little, not wanting to disobey Tony, but needing to test the boundaries of this new kind of restraint. It was completely dark; he couldn’t see a thing.

He felt Tony move off the couch, then his lips pressed to Steve’s forehead. “Stay here, I’ll come get you when I need you,” Tony whispered and Steve shivered. When I need you. That could be seconds, hours, all day.

Tony’s presence evaporated into the fog that lay outside his sense of touch, and Steve was left alone in the dark. His body hummed, over-sensitive to its surroundings with his sight gone. Tony might still be there, maybe at the end of the couch, ready to reach out and touch him at any moment.

He strained his super-hearing and made out the slight sounds of Tony fiddling with something by his desk. Otherwise, he was quiet. Steve imagined him poking at his holoscreens, or mastering some new, complex, scientific topic by speed-reading articles on the internet.

Steve pictured Tony setting his work aside and stalking over to where Steve lay. He could be there, his eyes drenched in need, staring, and Steve would never know. A shudder ran down his spine, through his crotch and ended by tickling his toes. It was as if Tony’s gaze had swept across him: he could feel it.

His foot jumped away from the armrest, sure it had felt something, and his heart rate kicked into overdrive.

But Tony wasn’t there, he was at his desk. Steve listened again and yes, there it was, the slight click of Tony’s pen as he fidgeted. Steve bit his lower lip and forced himself to breathe calmly. He pushed down the surge of adrenaline that had flushed into his veins the second Tony had slipped the blindfold over his eyes.

Steve would wait here for Tony, no matter how long it was until he was needed. And he would be ready for anything when that time came. He pulled in a long, slow breath, then let it out through his nose. He didn’t need to be on hyper alert because Tony had him. He brushed his fingers against his collar and it made his cock twitch.

Tony had him. He was Tony’s and all he had to do was be here. That’s all Tony had told him to do: stay here.

The cushions underneath him began to float away as his limbs became impossibly heavy and weightless at the same time.

Tony had him.

He opened his eyes under the blindfold and saw constellations and swirling auroras form in the pitch black. And he floated in outer space as time stretched into infinity.

Because Tony had him.

Chapter Text

“I have to be at the office all day for a bunch of meetings.” Tony sidled up to where Steve leaned against the kitchen counter. “Want to be good for me today?” His voice was low and full of promise and a little thrill curled through Steve’s stomach.

“Yes, Tony.”

Tony eyes snapped to his, and the charge Steve saw there halted his breath halfway out of his lungs. “Take and text me one picture every hour, on the hour, until I come home. They can be of anything, but don’t miss one and don’t be late.”

Steve nodded, then smiled, a thousand ideas for pictures he could take swirling through his head. “If I’m good will you send one back?” he teased, feeling giddy.

Tony grinned like a hungry shark and leaned in until his lips nearly touched Steve’s ear. His hand came up to circle Steve’s throat where the collar usually lay. “If you’re good, I’ll let you send me more.”

Steve shivered, a spike of anticipation twisting his giddiness into something more depraved. He couldn’t wait to be good for Tony, but he also loved knowing Tony would be thinking about him while they were apart. He would do anything for Tony, any time he asked, regardless of who was around or what they were doing, even if they were miles apart; they both knew it. Tony pressed his lips to Steve’s and whisked out of the room, already typing furiously on his work phone. Steve swallowed a few times, staring at the empty door Tony had disappeared through.

A picture every hour…It was 8:30 now, Tony would probably be home around 7. That meant 11 pictures throughout the day and he had half an hour to decide on the first one. Steve was suddenly struck with stage fright, remembering how awkward he’d felt in front of the camera the first time Tony had taken his picture. They’d sent things to each other since then, of course, some naughty, some not, but this game put a new kind of pressure on it.

Steve set his phone to chime at two minutes to the hour, for the rest of the day, so he wouldn’t miss one. By the time 9am rolled around, the only thing he could think to send was a selfie of him sipping coffee from Tony’s favourite mug. It somehow didn’t feel like enough, but Tony had said they could be of anything, and surely it was better than a blurry shot of their toaster. He attached the pic to an empty text and hit send.

He didn’t realize he was waiting for a reply until five minutes had passed during which he’d done nothing but sit and drink his coffee, staring at his phone. No reply came. Well, Tony had said he was in meetings all day; that hadn’t stopped him in the past, but there was no point in hanging around waiting.

Determined to get on with his day, Steve headed down to the gym but found it hard to focus, his mind constantly wandering back to Tony’s challenge. When 10am rolled around, he’d still had no reply and was partway through a jog on the treadmill. He used to get out and run around the city in the morning, but Tony had a habit of keeping him in bed well past his usual 5am, and it was sweltering out by this time. Even Captain America would be a puddle of sweat trying to run in this weather. When the alarm went off he snapped a picture of the treadmill’s LCD display, smiling at the idea of Tony looking at the numbers and calculating just how much Steve’s shirt would be sticking to his back, but not getting to see.

The next alarm found him in the pool, cooling off. He heard it going off as he propelled himself through the water, and he stopped abruptly and paddled to the edge. Steve settled on another selfie but fumbled the phone with his wet hands. The result was a surprisingly in-focus shot of his chest, drops of water glistening on his skin. He flushed looking at it, remembering the pictures Tony liked to take of his back, his arms, his abs. After wrestling briefly with indecision, the clock turning over to 11am made his mind up for him and he sent the photo quickly before he was late.

As soon as it was sent, his face heated and he dunked underwater to cool it off again. Steve was sure that would be the shot that would elicit a reply from Tony. It was the kind of objectification Tony was always trying to draw out of him. “You’re hot as fuck, Steve. Own it.” But time dragged on, and Tony remained silent.

Steve checked his phone five times in the next hour to make absolutely sure he hadn’t accidentally sent the photos to someone else.

Noon’s pic was his sandwich, half-eaten, the plate next to his open book. 1pm was a stack of after-action reports from the team that he was editing before sending to Hill. If Clint used the word “awesome” one more time in his write-ups he was going to make him go into battle in an actual bird costume.

At 1:30 his phone chimed, and he snatched it up, embarrassing himself with his eagerness, only to sigh when he saw it was a text from Natasha. A shot of Clint and Bucky on the range, clearly arguing over something, with an attached happy face. He sent back a smile of his own, though, in actuality, he had to admit he was pouting. He was happy Buck was having fun, but all he could think about was Tony.

By 1:45 and no reply from Tony, Steve was starting to get irritated. He shoved his work aside and took his book out onto the penthouse balcony. The sun was brilliant and a gentle breeze ruffled his hair. He stretched out on a lounge chair and tipped his chin towards the sky, letting the sun warm his skin. Riled up by half a day of rollercoastering arousal and frustration, Steve was struck by an idea. Tony loved watching Steve stretched out naked in the sun on their vacation, maybe he should give him a taste…

His shirt hit the floor, followed by his pants. He left his underwear on, but if he aimed carefully, Tony would never know. It took four tries to get a shot he liked, but when the alarm went off for 2pm, he was ready. The image he chose was his long legs, bare and glistening in the blinding light, the camera aimed high enough up his thighs to give a hint of what you might find if you moved up further.

The picture sent, Steve worked his thumbnail between his teeth nervously. He scrolled through the series of texts—his day in pictures and nothing back from the recipient. Tony was playing with him, it’s not like he was unaware, but it still got him worked up and fiery. He wanted to get him back for teasing, leaving Steve hanging.

There was one way he could get him back…

He watched the next hour tick by, keyed up and squirming, desperate to send another, but waiting for the assigned time. As soon as 2:58 hit he started snapping away. The best chosen and sent, he opened the picture himself and stared. One hand pulled his boxer briefs down, revealing his soft cock, his thumb extended towards the head suggestively, a hint of abs along the bottom of the image. Even he had to admit, it was pretty hot.

Ten minutes later, after still no reply, Steve was struck with a hot bolt of humiliation. God, Tony had that on his phone now and he could be anywhere. He could be in his office touching himself, or at a meeting. He could have left his phone in a drawer and seen none of them yet, or even given his phone to his assistant for the day. Steve flushed hot and heady at the idea. He could be showing them around, showing him off. And yet still no text back. Arousal and shame and frustration coiled around each other deep in Steve’s gut.

He wanted Tony to praise him for doing what he asked. He closed his eyes and imagined his phone chiming, a text: good boy. His cock swelled inside his underwear and he shifted on the lounger. One hand snaked down and rested lightly against his hardening cock. He usually tried to hold off and wait for Tony when he was at work, but he’d been given no command to; it was his choice.

Almost of its own volition, his hand started to move, stroke. The ring of his thumb and forefinger catching on the head of his cock as he slid gently down the shaft and up again. He kept his eyes closed, imagined all the things Tony could text back, even as he flushed hot all the way down his chest at the thought.

Good boy. You’re so beautiful. Did you get hard thinking about me? Send me another one. You’re so good for me, Steve.

The chiming of his alarm snapped him out of his daydream, stunned to find that another hour had gone while he fantasized. He was painfully hard, but his gentle strokes hadn’t quickened, and he was still far from release.

And Tony still hadn’t sent him a damn thing. His breathing hitched with a sudden rush of adrenaline at the thought that he could misbehave. Not send one this time. Send one late. Maybe that would get Tony’s attention. What would Tony do? Would he punish him? Continue to ignore him? But then when he got home…

He’d been good though, so good. And even if Tony wouldn’t acknowledge it, he knew he had been. If you’re good, I’ll let you send me more. He’d been good. He’d been good all day. His hand twisted over the head of his cock and he moaned. He shoved his underwear down his thighs and stroked in earnest now. At exactly 4pm he shot off a picture of his hand wrapped around his cock, squeezing, stroking up, a bead of precum forming on the slit.

I’ll let you send me more.

He’d been so good. At 4:05 he sent one of his toes curling into the cushion on the lounge chair. So good. 4:13 his hand around his cock again, moving fast this time, blurred as he jacked himself off hard now. God, it felt so good. 4:23 he sent his chest, pink and sweating from the sun and the heat building in his core, a bit of his chin barely visible at the top, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

His hand shook around the phone as his other moved faster on his cock, and he groaned. He scrolled through the pictures he’d sent, imagined Tony at work, desperately hard and trying to hide it from his coworkers.

His pleasure wound tight in his gut, then as it released, he held his thumb down on the shutter button, hearing the rapid fire snapping as it immortalized his earth-shattering orgasm.

4:31 a wildly angled picture of his stomach, streaked with come, his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking through the waves of pleasure, his balls tight against the base, come still spilling from the head. In the background, out of focus, his knee bent, heel digging into the chair cushion.

Panting, half from the power of his orgasm, and half from the thrill of the images he’d just sent, he dropped the phone by his hip, then startled nearly off the seat when it started buzzing loudly. He looked down and his heart jump-skipped into double time. Tony calling…

He slid to answer, thrumming with electricity, the phone a live wire in his hand. Before he could speak Tony’s voice hissed through the phone, “Brat.”

Steve’s breath caught. “I—I was being good. I thought I deserved—”

“Oh, you did, did you? Even when you decided to tease me until I couldn’t resist calling you?” Tony drawled. “It’s not up to you though, is it?”

Steve bit his tongue when he had the urge to say it worked though, you called me.

“I wanted to see what you’d send me next, but your beautiful cock ruined that plan. Are you hard again yet?” Commanding bite edged Tony’s words. Steve had already been working himself back up to it the second he’d heard Tony’s voice, but that tone sent several throbbing heartbeats of blood straight south.

“Nearly,” he gasped.

“Touch yourself. Slowly, softly, like I know you were doing at 4 o’clock.” Tony had been looking at the pictures. The thought punched a groan out of Steve. “Don’t you dare come again. I want you hard and desperate. Don’t speed up and don’t stop touching yourself.”

Steve obeyed, stroking until he was aching again. “Do you—do you want a picture?” he managed to get out between breaths.

“No. I want you to wait like that. I’m coming home to see for myself.”

Chapter Text

Tony’s work-roughened hands tightened the leather and vibranium band around Steve’s neck, and the need for touch and release snapped into the forefront. Steve wanted.

“Clothes off, on the bed,” Tony commanded, rummaging through that drawer. Steve scrambled to obey, shucking his clothes then scootching back to sink into the large pile of pillows that leaned against the headboard. Tony crawled up between his legs and sat back on his knees. He was still fully clothed.

He tossed down a bottle of lube, one of Steve’s new birthday plugs, and -

“Is that dental floss?”

“Mhm,” Tony almost sing-songed. He looked smug. Steve squirmed.

Tony leaned forward and ran a line of kisses down Steve’s chest, pausing to tease at his nipples. Steve started to sink already, drifting easily into submissive calm. There was still an edge though, a crackling of pleasant anxiety at what Tony might have planned. What he might tell him to do.

Tony slicked his fingers and started to work Steve open with no preamble. He teased the rest of his body with his lips and tongue and teeth, but ignored his swollen cock. Steve couldn’t help writhing against his hand, seeking more pleasure, more friction, more Tony.

“God, you’re already so needy, aren’t you? Desperate.” Tony’s fingers clenched on Steve’s skin and he whispered against his ribs, “I know how you feel.”

Tony leaned back, pulled a long thread of floss from the container, and broke it off. Then he pushed Steve’s foot up until his leg was folded in half and tied the floss around the thick of his thigh and ankle. Steve stretched into it and felt the delicate thread start to give way. Tony smirked up at him between his thighs. He pushed the other foot up and did the same until Steve was spread and exposed, trussed up by thin floss that had no hope of holding him. Heat flooded south, lighting up his skin and pooling in his groin.

Tony finished by bringing Steve’s hands together and tying one more loop around his wrists.

“What—?” Steve started then broke off in a gasp as he felt the blunt pressure of the plug against his hole. His eyes stayed fixed on Tony.

“You didn’t think I was just going to let yesterday go, did you?” Tony raised an eyebrow at him in challenge. “I gave you explicit instructions and you decided to tease me. I had to skip a very important meeting to come home and fuck you. Pepper is irate.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve gasped out, grinding his ass into Tony’s hand.

“Not yet, but you’re about to be. Every time the floss breaks, I stop. Got it?”

Steve’s whole body sung with anticipation, and he held his ankles firmly against his thighs. “Yes, Tony.” He was already struggling to keep still; his hips wanted to push up and find friction, his fingers wanted to furrow through Tony’s hair.

Tony eased the plug in, sending jolts of anticipatory pleasure shooting up through Steve’s spine. If only he’d just turn on the vibration, or push it deeper, or put his hand around Steve’s cock. Steve moaned and resisted the urge to writhe more, afraid the floss wouldn’t be able to take it.

Tony picked up the remote in his left hand and slid the other up the inside of Steve’s thigh. He leaned forward and the second his lips wrapped around the head of Steve’s cock the vibration clicked on.

All three threads snapped.

“Oh my god,” Steve breathed out as the vibrating immediately stopped and the heat of Tony’s mouth disappeared. His hips tried to chase the pleasure, and Tony grinned down at him, lips wet and swollen, then pulled out another long line of floss.

Tony took his time tying him up again. Steve could feel the plug inside him, pressing at his rim as he shifted on the sheets, but it wasn’t enough, nothing but a cruel tease. When Tony reached for his hands he snapped his palms together, too eager.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Tony mused, taking his time with the knot. “I should have brought the camera so I could immortalize that blush.” He brushed a rough thumb across Steve’s hot cheek. “How long before they break again?”

“Probably not long,” Steve admitted, failing at keeping the needy groan out of his voice.

Tony leaned forward and pressed his lips against Steve’s ear. “How long before you break?”

A high-pitched whine was all Steve could manage, wild at the thought of Tony breaking him, of pushing him so far he gave in, gave up, and could only sob and beg for release. Tony hummed with pleasure and returned to Steve’s cock. Again, the vibration ignited against his prostate the second Tony’s hot tongue slid down. Tony sucked Steve into heat and wet, but this time Steve tensed his legs, wove his fingers together, and fought the urge to move.

Tony kept up an even rhythm, sucking Steve down and ramping up the vibration every time his nose touched Steve’s belly. God, he took him so deep and the plug hit him just right and—

Snap.

Steve’s foot popped free as the floss gave way and he cried out when Tony’s attention ceased. “No, don’t stop, please, please,” he whined. Tony, of course, ignored him with a smile and went to work tying his leg back up, while Steve gasped and squirmed, his cock twitching, abandoned, on his belly.

Over and over again, Tony worked him right up to the edge, but try as he might, Steve couldn’t hold back when those first waves of impending orgasm hit, and he’d inevitably break at least one of the ties. He felt like he was constantly tipping on the edge, always seconds from finding release when Tony’s heat and the plug’s buzz would vanish. He couldn’t feel the bindings anymore; he just held his body tightly together until he couldn’t take it anymore and something snapped. Before he could reach his peak, Tony would stop and Steve would slide back down, only to begin the climb again, moments later.

Steve was halfway to delirious, a constant stream of please, and yes, and no, and pleasepleaseTonyplease spilled out of his mouth, but he couldn’t stop the threads from breaking, and Tony wouldn’t give in.

He built and fell and built and fell and he might be sobbing and the bed must be littered with broken scraps of floss and he was so, so close when all the threads snapped again. His feet hit the mattress, his hands fisted in the sheets, and he keened when Tony didn’t stop.

His cock hit the back of Tony’s throat and the plug revved into high gear, and Steve exploded. His orgasm rolled through him over and over, waves of pleasure cresting and breaking until he was sure his body would break too, overwhelmed.

Tony eased off, staying close and letting Steve’s scrabbling hands pull him up against his chest. He ran soft palms over Steve’s sides, petted his weakened muscles, and murmured soothing praise in his ear. When Steve found his breath again, Tony leaned back on one elbow and raked his eyes over Steve’s spent body, eyes heated, until Steve’s skin began to flush. “What do you say?”

Steve gazed up at Tony, mind lax and body floating. “Thank you, Tony.”

Chapter Text

The breadstick rolled between Tony’s fingers, pulling Steve’s attention away from the menu, yet again. He stared as Tony’s thumb ran along the edge, curling over the tip. He knew Tony didn’t know he was doing it. He’d just picked up the breadstick as soon as the waitress put down the basket and was off, fidgeting as always. Steve loved it, the energy that crashed through Tony, especially when he was excited. But right now it was distracting as all hell.

Steve realized he had been staring at the breadstick a little too long when his eyes flicked up and found that Tony’s were already fixed on him, a smirk accompanying his heated stare. Tony turned the breadstick horizontal, and started fisting one end with a teasingly familiar twist of his palm.

“Tony,” Steve hissed, pressing his lips together, attempting to suppress his grin.

“Yes, Steve?” Tony asked, composed, like he wasn’t jerking off a breadstick in the middle of a fancy restaurant. Steve stared, transfixed, because they were Tony’s hands, after all.

A chuckle pulled his attention back to Tony’s face, and the man winked before taking a bite out of the head—not head, breadsticks didn’t have heads—the end of the breadstick, and chewed through his grin before swallowing. “Would you like one?” Tony asked, eyes crinkling at the edges, voice dripping with innuendo.  

“A breadstick? Or a…?” Steve shifted in his dining chair.

“Or a fucking,” Tony finished for him, leaning back, and it allowed Steve to see how good he looked in his suit, all dressed up because Tony wanted to take him somewhere nice. “Unless,” Tony continued, biting at his lip. His voice had taken on a hint of uncertainty that so rarely slipped into his tone, especially when it was only them spending time together. Steve’s breath caught at the light blush that spread across Tony’s cheeks, but when Tony met his eye it was like a transformation, eyes darkening and voice lowering, all trace of his earlier hesitancy gone. “Unless, you want to be the breadstick?”

Steve froze. “Like…?” Heat inflamed his face, and his hands clenched against his thighs.

“Steve,” Tony said, tone pointedly casual. “We don’t have to—”

“No!” Steve shook the table with the force of his hand slapping the wood, then he took a deep breath, looking over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t disturbed any of the other patrons, before continuing. “I want—” His jaw slammed shut again, because Tony didn’t know this about him. No one did, not Peggy, not Bucky, and not Tony. God, he was on fire, and Tony’s eyes had turned from heated to concerned. He knew Tony would let him change the subject, if he wanted. But it wasn’t like he’d been hiding the information, or ashamed of it, it just…hadn’t come up.

Tony's hands continued to molest the breadstick of their own accord, as his question played in Steve’s mind on repeat. He’d thought about it, how it would feel to slide into someone, into Tony. He’d imagined the heat, the tight grip, different from a hand or a mouth. Yes, Steve wanted. He was half hard in his dress pants just thinking about it, ever grateful for long, fancy tablecloths.

He remembered the blush on Tony’s cheeks from before he asked the question. It made him want to share, despite the fact that they were in the middle of the restaurant, and anyone could overhear. “I’ve never—” He leaned closer, head nodding to Tony’s hand. “I’ve never...been the breadstick.”

A little crease formed in the middle of Tony’s forehead at Steve’s words, like he was trying to puzzle out a riddle; Steve had confused the genius. He waited until he saw a flicker of understanding in Tony’s eyes, how they widened slightly, then narrowed. Tony studied him as if he were reassembling his Steve Rogers Puzzle Pieces, reading in Steve’s expression something that made his own turn possessive, his grin turn greedy, his words heated when he spoke. “You were going to say something earlier, something you wanted. What is it you want?”

Steve licked his lips, letting his eyes trail over Tony’s suit-clad shoulders, up the bare skin of his collarbone. He imagined pushing Tony back, right there in his dining chair, shoving his legs apart and finding the parts inside Tony that made his body writhe with pleasure. To give that to Tony, to experience that with him, it made his heart clench. “I want to be the breadstick,” he said in a rush.

“Good evening, gentlemen.”

Steve jerked in his chair, surprise and embarrassment fighting for control of his expression, and both winning. But Tony, suave as always, turned towards the waiter with a practiced, polite smile. “Hello there, I’ll have the steak, medium rare, with the beet and goat cheese salad, and a bottle of wine, 2007 Gaja Barbaresco. Steve?”

He knew he was the color of the beets Tony had just ordered, and he couldn’t bear to look at the waiter when he spoke. “Same. I’ll have the same.”

And then he was gone and Tony was chuckling. “That was adorable.”

“Oh, god.” Steve buried his face in his hands.

“If it helps, I don’t think he broke our breadstick code.”

He shot Tony a glare, but the corners of his mouth were already twitching into a smile, the whole scenario was too absurd and not at all how he had imagined sharing this aspect of himself.

“I had wondered…” Tony said, the affection in his tone curling around Steve, making him almost forget about their interruption. “Never with a woman either?

Steve flushed. “No.”

“Not interested, or?”

He shook his head, thought of his time on the USO tour, how he tripped over his feet and his words in front of every beautiful smile. “No opportunity.”

“But you wouldn't have said no…?”

Steve gripped the back of his neck, shifting in his seat. “You should’ve seen some of these dames, Tony, legs for days and the way they’d wink at me. Though men…” He blushed. “I always liked men best. Like you best.”

Tony laughed. “Flatterer. You just want to get back to breadsticks.”

“Can you blame me?” Now that it was out there in the open, all Steve wanted to do was get back to their bedroom. But Tony had that look in his eye, the one that meant he wanted to play for a while, so when the food arrived, Steve wasn’t surprised that Tony changed the subject as he savored his steak and wine. Every so often, his foot would rub along Steve’s ankle and calf, but other than that there was no contact between them. By the end of dinner, Steve was squirming in his chair, trying to read what was behind Tony’s smirk, what he had planned now that he knew.

Steve pounced as soon as they made it back to the penthouse. He knew how it felt to have Tony’s cock inside him, but he could only imagine how it’d be to see Tony on all fours, to slide into him. His hands itched, even as Tony bit down on his neck and pushed him against the door. “You want it,” Tony whispered into his ear. “You hardly made it through dinner, letting your mind wander. You want to fuck me, don’t you?”

“Yes, Tony!” Steve whined, arching his hips into Tony’s.

“Then fuck me.”

Steve froze at the order, because he couldn’t quite think of what else to do or where to start, but then all the fantasies he’d had all evening kaleidoscoped in his mind and he jerked into motion, pushing Tony back with more force than he intended.

Tony smirked, eyes flashing with desire. “Oh yea, big boy," he said as he walked backwards towards the bed, arms outstretched. “Come and get me.”

A noise formed deep within Steve, a growl, and he pushed away from the door, advancing on Tony until the back of the man’s thighs hit the bed.

“Look at you go.” Tony sounded breathless. “So much strength, you could pin me down and take me. Have me any which way. Do you want that, Steve?”

Steve closed the space between them, Tony’s legs framing his own, and ran his hands over Tony’s shoulders, up over his collarbone. Tony tilted his head, gasped when Steve leaned over and kissed the soft skin, before pulling back. “God, Tony, I want everything.” His hands tightened on Tony’s shoulders. “I don’t know where to begin.” He knew he sounded unsure, and Tony’s hands came up to caress his forearms.

“Grab the lube. Then let’s get naked.”

Steve nodded, following the orders, each one calming him because he didn’t know what to do, but he did know Tony, and he knew Tony would walk him through it.

“God, you look gorgeous,” Tony declared, once Steve was standing naked in front of him. Tony’s own cock stood proudly between his legs, but he ignored it for now, his eyes glued on Steve instead. “I can’t wait to have that inside me. So thick Steve, you’re going to feel amazing.” Steve swallowed, and Tony smirked, reaching up to pinch Steve’s nipple. “Better get that hard for me.”

He could feel Tony’s eyes on him as he wrapped his hand around his cock. Standing in front of Tony, while he sat at the edge of the bed, watching Steve as if was a show that existed solely for Tony’s amusement.

“Get nice and hard.” Tony licked his lips and dragged his eyes back to Steve’s face. “Want to be able to push right in me.” Steve’s head rolled on his neck, hips thrusting into his fist. “You like that idea, huh?” Steve nodded even as his eyes rolled back in head, pleasure coursing through his body as Tony kept talking. “Hands and mouths are the only things you’ve ever fucked. It’ll feel so different, Steve, you have no idea, and it’s different with a woman, too, to feel her silky warmth clench around you. I can arrange it, Steve, if you want; we can fuck her together. I’d love to see that, see you experience that, if you want.”

Steve could see it, a beautiful smile, her soft skin between them. His hips jerked wildly in his fist, and he had to remember that he was preparing himself, that this wasn’t the main event.

“So beautiful, Steve,” Tony whispered. “I think you’re more than ready. It’s my turn. Come here.” Tony scooted back onto the bed, his lithe body stretching against the sheets and Steve moved forward, crawling between his legs, waiting for Tony to guide him.

“Lube your fingers and finger me, just like I know you do when you touch yourself.”

Steve gasped as Tony lifted his legs and pulled them back. He could see Tony’s hole fluttering as he exposed it, and Steve couldn’t resist, couldn’t wait, he reached forward and brought his slick finger to the rim.

“Shit, Steve,” Tony hissed. “Yeah, just like that, good boy.”

Steve grinned and rubbed his face against Tony’s inner thigh. “Can I lick you?”

Tony’s body arched as he moaned. “God, yes, yes, definitely yes.”

Steve had no idea what he was doing, but he let his instincts drive him, used every trick Tony had used on him, and it didn’t take long before Tony was grinding on his tongue and taking what he wanted. Steve followed his pace, adding a finger when Tony demanded it, then another, stretching. Steve was hard as a rock through it all because he had never tasted Tony like this, never before gave him pleasure in this way, and he knew there was only more to come.

A strong grip in his hair forced Steve to stop, and Tony pulled at him until their eyes met. “I could ride your tongue for forever Steve, but tonight I want that cock in me.”

A whine slipped from Steve as he followed on instinct, lubing up his cock and gripping the base, pressing the head against Tony, and out of nowhere a rush of nerves weaved itself into Steve’s arousal. He hesitated, and Tony’s hand came to cover his. “Steve—?”

“I’m okay,” he assured, catching Tony’s eye. “I’m just...I’m happy it’s with you.” And he pushed passed the rim, their moans colliding between them. Tight warmth engulfed his cock with every tiny thrust forward.

Tony lifted onto his elbows to watch as Steve fucked him. He looked beautiful, a layer of sweat making his skin shine. “Just like that, so good. Your cock, Steve, it feels perfect inside me.” Steve thrust forward at his words, and Tony yelped. “Yes! Fuck yes, Steve, right there, fuck. Keep that angle, yeah, yeah, come on.”

He wasn’t going to last very long, not with Tony’s constant stream of encouragement going straight to his dick. It was everything he’d ever imagined. He could feel Tony around him, clenching with every twist of Steve’s hips. His face was an open book, his pleasure there for Steve to read and he did that. He made Tony gasp and grind, caused his lips to part with pleasure, his breath to stutter when Steve hit that spot inside Tony, the one Tony loved to hit inside of Steve.

It was intoxicating, giving this to Tony, taking this from him, because each thrust was a gift Tony was giving him as well, something to cherish, something to love. And when Tony clenched tight and spasmed under him, come spurting all over his stomach and chest, Steve wanted to memorize the sight, wanted to sketch it. He was about to come inside Tony for the first time, about to fall over the edge and the thought of this moment captured on canvas, the feel of the warmth and rightness of Tony, all of it made him come harder than he had in a very long time.

He collapsed on top of Tony, both of them catching their breath as hands rubbed over skin. “That felt so good,” Steve whispered into Tony’s neck.

“Yeah, it did babe. You did beautifully.”

“Yeah?” He could hear the uncertainty in his word.

“I came untouched on your cock, Steve.” He ran his hand through Steve’s hair. “I’d say, distinguished service. I’ll order you a medal.”

Steve chuckled. “I’ll pin it to my collar.”

Tony pinched his ass. “Be careful or you’ll give me ideas.”

“Wouldn’t want that.”

Tony pinched his ass, harder this time, a threat and a promise. “One fuck and he’s cocky.”

Steve pulled his face from Tony’s skin, knew his cheeks were pink. “I really enjoyed it, Tony,” he whispered, and Tony’s playful expression morphed into something sincere.

“I did too, and anytime you want, we can do it again.”

Steve thought back to the things Tony said. “Any of it? Even...the other stuff you mentioned?”

Tony’s eyes darkened. “Anything you want, my love. Name it and it’s yours.”

Chapter Text

Chapter One: Bake

“What is that delicious smell?” Tony asked Natasha as they walked in from the balcony. He’d spent the morning showing her how to work her new Widow’s Bites that he had upgraded into her tac suit, and she’d unsurprisingly picked it up quickly.

“Looks like your boy is taking charge in more places than the battlefield,” Natasha commented as they continued their walk into the apartment. Tony smirked when Steve entered their line of sight, his broad shoulders and muscular back swaying to an invisible rhythm as he faced the stove. When he turned to greet them, a smile lit up his face. “Good job, Cap.” She smiled in return. “It smells delicious in here.”

Steve’s cheeks turned pink at the compliment and he dipped his head to look at Nat from under his lashes. “Thanks.”

“What’chu making, bacon?” Tony leaned over the kitchen island. An array of mixing bowls and discarded premixed boxes were strawn along the counter. Steve leaned over and grabbed a bowl that was next to the stovetop, it was white with rainbow colors sprinkles, and Tony stuck his finger in it, ignoring Steve’s head shake of disapproval. Tony knew there was only fluff under that expression, and he smiled wide in response, smacking his lips after swallowing the batter. “Tasty!”

“There are all kinds of premixed baked goods, now. Brownies and cookies and cakes with candy in them. I thought I’d bake some and we’d all test out which ones taste the best.”

Natasha leaned against the kitchen island, facing Tony. “He’s adorable, so excited to cook for everyone.”

Tony watched as Steve’s blush deepened, eyes looking towards Natasha before flicking to Tony, obviously confused.

“Yeah,” Tony said to Natasha with eyes on Steve. “He really is something, Nat. Tasty’s his specialty.”

“There seems to be a lot of tasty around here,” she replied, fingertips rapping lightly along the countertop. Tony tore his gaze from her hand and when he caught her eye, her smile turned into a smirk, like she’d be waiting all along for him to notice her watching him. “And gorgeous,” she continued. “Can’t forget that.”

It had been a while since he’d been at the opposite end of a non-Steve flirtation and it sparked an adrenaline rush borne from the unknown. But while he might be rusty, he was still Tony Stark. He cocked a grin of his own and leaned closer to her. “How can I forget beauty, when I’m in the room with two of the most attractive people on the planet?”

Natasha’s green eyes rolled, but Tony could detect a hint of color in her cheeks and once they took their turn around the room, they were right back on Tony, fixed with intent. “You have all the lines Tony, must get everyone you set your sights on.”

He chuckled, reaching out to press a finger against the countertop between them. “Not everyone.”

“Not yet, at least,” she corrected. “But I like what I see.” She turned back to Steve. “Gorgeous.”

Steve, who had picked up that they were going to be talking about him and not to him, or only to each other, had turned back to his baking, but Tony could still see the way his neck flushed at the attention. "Do you have to order shirts that tight specially?” Nat's lips quirked up.

“What can I say? I like dressing him up nice.”

"Not complaining, Stark." Her eyes drifted over the curve of Steve's back to settle on the fitted fabric that clung to his ass.

"Steve. Do a little twirl for Nat."

Steve had been pouring the cake batter into a dish, and if it hadn’t been for his super-soldier reflexes, he probably would've dropped the glassware. He looked at Tony, eyes narrowing with confusion but he did as he was told, cheeks beet red by the time he finished. Tony resisted the urge to back him against the counter and kiss him breathless. Instead, he turned to Nat. “See?”

“You were right, Stark.”

“As usual.”

Natasha licked her lips and Tony was pretty sure he wasn’t the only man in the room following the motion. “At least when it comes to, Steve. You seem to always know what’s best for him.”

Tony cleared his throat, surprised to find that he was almost blushing at her compliment. “I make it my responsibility to know. Isn’t that right, Steve?”

Steve met his eye, then dropped it to the kitchen island. “Yes, Tony,” he said, and Tony knew that tone, knew Steve was settling into that place where he was lax and open and looking at Tony to lead him. His eyes darkened after he’d put himself on display, and now he turned them on Nat, peering up at her from under his lashes again, shy and oh so appealing.

“I think you need to put that in the oven,” Tony reminded him, and Steve blushed again, turning away from them. When he pulled his eyes away from Steve’s ass as he bent to open the oven, he looked towards Natasha, who was watching Steve’s overzealous demonstration of putting baked goods in the oven with obvious interest. She must’ve felt Tony’s eye on her, because suddenly her gaze was on Tony again, a predator tracking her prey, and Tony was definitely starting to feel his own thrill, because as much as this was about Steve, he was just as swept up in it. “You’re lucky,” she said, voice dropping to an octave he’d never heard from her before and it curled around his groin, making his cock twitch. “You get to see him bent over anytime you want, with your collar around his neck.”

Tony’s pulse quickened at the image, at her words, but Steve didn’t even hesitate, just continued mixing something outrageous and orange. Tony could tell he was almost under now, even without the collar, from them talking about him like he was nothing more than the eye candy installation in the kitchen. Tony wondered which of them was more excited at this point. “Oh I know, I’m very lucky.” His own voice came out rough, husky.

“And he’s so dedicated. Patient.” They both watched Steve pour milk into the measuring cup. “I bet that carries over to the bedroom well.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

Her eyebrow lifted and she straightened, head tilting on her neck as she assessed Steve Rogers. Tony felt pride, a rush of it, and it only rose as Steve joined in their game. He stretched to grab another measuring cup, intentionally showing off the smooth strip of his lower back. He looked over his shoulder to make sure he had their attention before licking stray batter off his thumb, almost casual except for the blush on his cheeks. Tony stood, walking around the island and placed a hand against his lower back, leaned in close to whisper in Steve’s ear. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, and up close he could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead, how blown his pupils were.

Steve nodded. “It’s hot. Hearing you talk about me.”

“Good.” Then he reached down and pinched Steve’s ass, turning back to Natasha. “He really is a fine specimen of a man.”

“You’d know,” Natasha said, walking around the kitchen island. Her eyes scanned them both, from Tony’s hand on Steve’s ass, to where their feet slotted together on the kitchen floor. “I bet you could put on quite a show.”

Steve turned into Tony, nuzzling his neck before pulling back. When Steve caught his eye, Tony saw in it all the expectancy, the desire, and through it all, he was able to bake. Fuck, something about that shouldn’t  have been hot but it was. And he pulled Steve into a kiss. It was hard to do anything else, and Steve opened up under him, lips parting. He didn't hold back, moaning when Tony slid his tongue into his mouth. Some days, Steve would push back, take before Tony was ready to give. But not today. Today Steve was pliant, letting Tony push him against the island, bend his back into a perfect arch as he kissed along Steve’s neck. He closed his eyes and breathed in Steve’s scent as he traced up his neck with nips and bites. When he got to Steve’s jaw, he knew Steve’s head was turned, facing Natasha.

The little minx was showing off.

Tony opened his eyes and Natasha was watching with a heat in her eyes. That alone pushed his pace wilder, urged him to speed up, pull Steve back against his chest and bite a kiss into his mouth, all while keeping his gaze connected with hers.

Against him, Steve whimpered and pulled Tony closer, turning his mouth away just far enough so he could turn and see Natasha. He was hard against Tony’s leg, and Tony would’ve sworn he felt Steve’s cock twitch through the fabric of their pants. “You like this?” he whispered into Steve’s ear, taking the time to bite at the lobe and push his hands into the back pocket of his pants. “Like having an audience?” he asked.

Then he reached out his hand, palm facing the kitchen ceiling. Natasha stared at his palm like she was decoding it. Whatever it told her was good enough, because she stepped closer. Her eyes traced Tony’s face then Steve’s and by the time she was close enough to slide her hand into his, Steve’s breath had caught and Tony was grinning. “Hey there,” he said, enjoying the feel of her delicate palm in his. He had expected it to be rougher, more calloused, but even in its softness he felt her strength. He imagined her hands pressing into his shoulders, gripping in his hair, closing around his cock. But for now, he turned her hand and placed it against Steve’s shoulder, dragging it along the muscle of the blade, down the length of his spine, to rest inside Steve’s back pocket.

Nat must have squeezed her hand because Steve jolted forward with a moan, rubbing his cock against the tent in his pants. She stepped in, fitting herself behind Steve and caught Tony’s eye over Steve’s shoulder. They shared a grin as Steve writhed between them.

“He’s so responsive.”

“You should see him when he’s deeply under.”

Natasha sucked in a breath, bringing her hand to run along the edge of Steve’s t-shirt, lower than where Steve’s collar usually lay but close enough that a possessive pride swelled in Tony’s chest. Steve was his: to love, to fuck, and to share. His hand came up to grab Steve’s chin, fingers rubbing along the soft skin under his jaw. “What do you want, Steve?”

Steve licked his lips, head falling back on Natasha’s shoulder as he continued to grind into them both. He looked wild and shameless and so, so turned on, but he met Tony’s eye and managed to gasp, “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Two: Cool

Steve gripped the arms of the chair and watched Tony sink to his knees in front of him. Tony’s eyes never left Steve’s face as he tightened the straps around his ankles, but Steve couldn't help but flick his gaze up to where Nat stood behind him. She was still in the tac suit from testing it with Tony earlier, and Steve’s eyes followed every curve of her body, hugged by the black leather. She hung back, watching Tony tie Steve to the chair without moving, but her eyes were full of quiet intensity. Steve’s stomach swooped. He couldn’t believe they were really here, about to do this.

The strap at his ankle tightened sharply, and Steve looked down to where Tony crouched between his legs. He was looking at Steve with that commanding heat that never failed to shoot straight to Steve’s groin, but there was something else there too, a question, a need for confirmation. Steve gave him a small nod, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth to prevent an eager whimper from leaking out. Tony’s mouth split into a grin, and Steve shifted in the chair. He was hard, but trying to ignore it, sensing that Nat’s command for Tony to keep Steve tied down would last for a while.

“Come here,” Nat said, and Tony stood, his eyes raking over Steve one last time before he turned away to face her. Tony came to stand in front of Natasha, and Steve watched as their eyes met. The look was charged, energy crackling between them, and Steve thrilled to be a part of it, to be trapped on the edges, but also know it was for him, because of him. It was like standing too close to a lightning storm; the back of his neck tingled, and his hair stood on end.

Tony had clearly been thinking about this, planning this, for quite a while, and Nat, for her part, didn’t seem at all surprised. She’d gone to her room, then appeared in their bedroom only minutes later, with a bag in tow. With barely a glance at Steve, she’d ordered Tony to tie him to a chair saying, “He can watch until he’s earned a touch,” and that she, “needs to get Tony on his knees first.”

He wasn’t on his knees now, though, he was standing face to face with her, hands in his pockets, oozing palpable tension.

Nat leaned forward and whispered something in Tony’s ear, and Steve watched as a smile bloomed across Tony’s face. Steve knew that hungry look but it had always been directed at him and his stomach twisted for a moment, seeing someone else put it there for the first time. But he arched his wrists against the straps locking them to the chair arms, and the uncertainty broke and pooled as heat deep in his gut.

“Strip,” Natasha commanded. Her voice had an edge that made Steve’s cock twitch, but it was different from Tony’s, edged in razor blades instead of fire. He could see the way Tony responded to the command, the bulge in his pants, and the challenge in his eyes. To Steve’s surprise, he could tell that Tony wanted to give in to Nat’s control, but he was going to make her earn it, and Steve found himself getting excited at the thought of watching that happen.

Tony’s hands went to his shirt, his eyes still fixed on Natasha. “You know, I was just speculating  to Steve—while you got your magic bag, which I am very curious about, by the way—we were speculating whether you’d be one of those ‘stilettos on your trachea’ kind of dommes, or more the ‘tie you up and ride you til you see god’ type.” The shirt hit the floor, and Tony started on his pants, his movements easy and confident. Steve watched, always entranced by the sight of Tony’s smooth, golden skin.

Natasha grinned. “I wondered when you were going to start talking, Stark.” She crossed the room, passing by Steve but ignoring him completely, and bent next to his chair to rummage through her bag. Steve’s eyes drifted down her back, over the curve of her hip and his heart rate doubled. He snapped his attention back to Tony and caught the other man’s eyes fixed on him with interest. “Luckily, I have just the thing for your little problem,” Nat drawled.

A strip of leather hung from her hand as she made her way back across the room. She circled Tony once, making an obvious show of the way her eyes dragged over his now naked body. Steve stared too, as if seeing Tony through Nat’s eyes. He took in his smooth arms, sculpted abs, and the curve of his ass for the first time again. It was different, seeing Tony from the outside, watching Tony get hard, watching Tony watch her, and knowing that was all he was here for: to watch. It was giving up control in a completely new way, and the excitement it awoke in him was growing and building, filling his chest and arching him against his restraints. Nat reached out and ran a single finger down Tony’s chest, over the arc reactor, and below his belly button. He shuddered.

“You know it’s been a while since I’ve kneeled for someone. Might be a bit rusty on the whole giving up control thing. You might have to—” Nat’s hand slapped over Tony’s mouth, stopping the flow of words. Her fingers twitched, as did her lips, and Steve wondered if he had bitten or licked her palm. Her hand tightened over his face and her arm tensed as she pressed down. Tony sunk to his knees in front of her, his arms limp at his sides, eyes fixed on her face.

“That’s better. You look good on your knees, Stark.” Tony’s mouth started moving under her hand, and she shook her head. She lifted her other hand and Steve could see now what she held: a gag. He swallowed hard as his mouth pooled with vicarious drool. Tony had never gagged him, but the thought instantly cemented into his mind and he thrummed with the need to see it put into use. One of Tony’s eyebrows shot up, but he let her fit the gag over his mouth, snapping it shut behind his head. Steve watched Tony’s throat bob as he swallowed around the small silver ball between his lips.

Tony’s eyes blazed as he glared up at Nat, and Steve wondered what he would say, if he could. Nat held out her hand and Tony placed his in hers. She guided his fingers up to the neck of her tac suit, then released his hand. Tony must have understood what she was asking, because he fumbled with the collar for a moment then drew his hand down, unzipping the suit as he went. Inch by inch he revealed her creamy white skin, down over her neck, her breasts, her soft stomach.

The leather parted, teasing at what was underneath but taking its sweet time to release it. When the zipper hit the end of its track, Nat shrugged out of the suit and let it fall to her waist. Tony reached up and worked it over her hips, eventually bringing it the floor. She stood, naked and unabashed, in front of Tony, and Steve watched as the kneeling man’s eyes took her in. Steve followed the heated trail they left on her skin with his own eyes. God, she was gorgeous—soft where Tony had edges, all long legs and curves. Steve wanted to taste every inch of her, starting with the dip of her shoulder, and the strength of that desire surprised him.

Tony ran his hands over her body, starting as high as he could reach from the floor and caressing her sides, stomach, thighs. The confidence in the way his hands floated over her made Steve feel giddy. He knew Tony knew what he was doing—he had always handled Steve expertly—but getting to see him show off that skill with a different body was enlightening. He wanted to see Tony make Nat writhe, and moan, and—god—come, the same way he made Steve’s body bow to him. Tony’s hand slipped between her legs and Nat’s whole body shuddered. She dug her hand into his hair and squeezed hard enough that Steve could see Tony jerk into the touch, then let out a hissing breath through his nose. Tony’s cock was hard between his legs.

“Think you can get me off with just your fingers?” Nat asked, still gripping Tony’s hair hard. He nodded, swallowing around the gag. His wrist twisted and Nat gasped, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She ground forward onto his hand. Tony’s other hand caught the back of her knee and pulled her in closer, but he kept his eyes on her face.

Steve’s cock throbbed insistently and he choked back a frustrated groan. Sharp arousal spiked through his core, and he shifted on the chair, desperate for friction. His eyes dropped to his leaking cock, rock hard and begging for contact. It was suddenly deeply uncomfortable and his breath started coming out in ragged gasps as he struggled against the straps. Nat moaned and his gaze shot back up to the couple in front of him. Tony’s eyes were fixed on Nat’s face, but when Steve whimpered they snapped to him instead.

It was like the auto-focus on a camera switching on: the whole world narrowed to Tony’s eyes on him. Even with the gag in his mouth and Nat’s body curled over him, Tony radiated control at Steve. Relief washed through Steve like he’d been dunked in warm water. He tilted his chin, stretching into the grounding press of the collar around his neck, then let out a shaky sigh as he drifted placidly into the restraint of his bonds. Nat continued to moan and squirm on Tony’s fingers, her hands furrowed deep in his hair, but Tony’s eyes stayed on Steve now. He drooled and swallowed around the gag, flushed, hard and needy. It was a sight that would forever be seared into Steve’s memory.

Every shift and whimper, every time he saw the tendons in Tony’s forearm tense as he worked Nat wild, every little buck of her hips, all built in Steve, pushing him deeper and deeper under. He forgot the neediness of his cock and drowned in her pleasure and the knowledge that his Tony was giving it to her.

Her cheeks pinked, the roll of her hips getting wilder as she sunk down onto Tony’s hand, her knees bending and arms dropping to his shoulders to hang on. His hand increased its pace and she started to shake. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she cried out. Her thighs clamped around Tony’s hand and Steve could see wave after wave of pleasure shudder through her as Tony worked her through her orgasm.

Nat sunk down onto Tony’s lap, her bent legs straddling his, and dropped her face to his shoulder. They both panted through it, Steve finding that he was also short of breath. He felt balanced on the edge of a precipice, desperate for a touch of his own, but also deeply satisfied, floating through Nat’s orgasm at Tony’s hand.

And then Nat turned her head, cheek against Tony’s shoulder, and met Steve’s eyes for the first time.

Chapter Three: Eat

Steve was tied to a chair, straps binding his body, but it was Natasha’s gaze that kept him still. He remembered before, in the kitchen, how heavy her eyes felt when she called him ‘gorgeous’ and pretended he wasn’t even in the room. Now, with those green eyes fixed on him, assessing him, taking him in—her gaze was a full on assault and his cock twitched, a bead of precome pooling on its tip.

“He really is patient, Stark, just like you said. Hardly made a peep throughout. See, some boys don’t need gags to be quiet, do they?” Tony had hardly stopped looking at him while he fingered Nat, and even as she traced his bottom lip, jutting out around the gag, he was still watching Steve. She tugged behind Tony’s head and the gag fell loose, fingers running through his hair then gripping so he’d look back at her. When their gazes connected, Tony licked his lips, like he was about to speak but Natasha interrupted. “Go and keep your mouth occupied on your pretty boy’s pretty cock, since he’s about to get that chair all messy.”

Another bubble of precome spurted from the tip of Steve’s cock. “So responsive,” Nat whispered as she laid across the ottoman at the foot of the bed and watched.

Steve looked back at Tony when he filled the space between his legs, hands coming up to trace around the strap digging into his thigh. He pulled at it, forcing Steve to press into the chair and a moan erupted from deep within his chest. Tony's fingers were still damp from Natasha and Steve’s thoughts stuttered to a stop. As if Tony could tell, he traced those fingers up, over Steve’s hip, against the sensitive skin of his stomach. The wet fingers twisted his nipple then forced themselves into Steve’s mouth, already open and panting. The taste hit his tongue, and another bead of come bubbled from his cock at the intoxicating mix of salt and something that reminded him vaguely of winter. He wanted it all, wished he could grip Tony’s hand but the binds constrained him.

He heard a soft gasp through his moan and forced his eyes open to see Natasha, the sound parting her lips beautifully. When she caught him watching, her smirk widened and she shook her head. “He’s always taking liberties isn’t he? I said suck, Tony.”

Steve’s attention fell back between his legs, where Tony chuckled. The hand not in Steve’s mouth pulled on the straps constraining his body at random, making Steve’s cock twitch and he threw his head back in pleasure, the taste of Nat falling away.

The hand fell to his neck, gripping around the collar and for a second Steve was floating, unable to breathe. Then Tony’s hand was on Steve’s chin, turning his face until all Steve could see was Tony. Only then did he slide his mouth around Steve’s cock.

His hips jerked despite the bondage, the chair creaking under him. Fingers returned to his hip gripped sure and secure, right as Tony flattened his tongue along the underside of Steve’s cock and instead of bucking again Steve sighed and melted, let the binds hold him as Tony did what he pleased with his cock.

“Just a warmup,” Nat said from the ottoman. “You remember the plan, Tony.”

Steve’s pulse raced at the words, trying to devise every possible plan they could be referring to. He’d talked with Tony about his desires, but what had Tony shared with Natasha?

The excitement, the unknown, it was all enough to pull Steve from the floating place, ground him in this moment because Steve didn’t want to miss a second. Natasha was watching them intently, head perched on her hand, the other making aimless loops along her bare skin. “Your boy wanted to try something. We were going to let him.”

A pop and the warmth around his cock disappeared, quickly replaced by Tony’s calloused hand. “Oh, am I allowed to speak now?”

Natasha chuckled. “Brat.”

“You love it.”

“It does have a certain appeal,” she agreed, as she swung her long legs around the ottoman, sitting with them crossed, completely naked. Steve wanted to draw her, the amused tilt to her eyebrow, how she raised her hand and gave him a little wave. “I see you there, Cap. Tony’s getting you all ready for me.” Even as she said it Tony stood and started to untie the straps. “I can’t wait to feel all that muscle under my hands. Do you think you’ll like that?”

“Yes,” Steve answered between breaths, and then Tony was biting at his ear, pushing the last of the strap away.

“Yes, Natasha,” she corrected.

Tony’s face was suddenly in front of his, pressing a rough kiss into his mouth. “Say it,” he ordered.

“Yes, Natasha,” he breathed. “Yes, Tony.”

“Good boy,” they said in unison, and Steve let out a string of moans, until Tony broke him off with another kiss. Somewhere along the heat and twist of tongues, Tony slid onto Steve’s lap, straddling him, but far enough back on Steve’s thighs that they were both left wanting the friction they visibly craved.

Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, waiting for Steve to settle in his arousal, to float in the moment with Tony. His eyes had softened, brown and kind and Steve’s. He remembered Tony’s words from weeks ago.

I can arrange it, if you want.

I’d love to see that, see you experience that, if you want.

“I want,” Steve whispered, mirroring the words he had said that evening, so many evenings since Tony came into his life.

“Get on the bed, Nat.” Steve heard the rustle of sheets but kept his eye on Tony as he slid from Steve’s lap, reached out a hand to him.

Steve took it immediately, standing and letting Tony wrap his arms around his waist. They walked towards the bed, Tony pressed to his back. Natasha was sprawled out on the bed in front of him, porcelain skin twisting into their golden sheets. Her hair fanned onto the pillow, legs sprawled and eyes heated.

Tony led him forward until knees hit the ottoman, and then he bent him over with a firm hand on his back. “That’s it.” Tony’s hot breath hit his lower back as Steve crawled over Natasha, taking in the curve of her thigh, the dip of her hips. Her skin looked unbelievably soft and he wanted to run his hands, his cheek, against her, but no one had given him the order yet to touch. “You look beautiful, Nat,” Tony whispered over his shoulder. “Run your hand along her side, Steve.”

Steve followed the order, keeping his hand on her side, even as she curled into the touch, turning so her breast brushed against his hand. His hips jerked forward and Tony chuckled in his ear. “Like the feel of that?”

“I think you do,” Natasha chimed in. Her hand came up to cup her breast, tease at her nipple and Steve was transfixed. Natasha was always precise, calculated, and here she was no different. “Go for it, Cap.”

He took that as permission to touch her everywhere and started with a fingertip to her cheek. He was right, her skin was softer than he’d imagined and he trailed his fingertips down her neck and over her collarbones. She gasped when he squeezed her breasts in his hand, leaning down but stopping just a breath above her nipple. “May I, Natasha?”

She let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, he’s good. Yes, yes you may.”

He felt his cheeks flush at the praise and it only spurred him on, propelled him forward until her nipple was in his mouth and she was gasping under him.

Tony’s hand fell to his hair, petting without weight, letting Steve discover Natasha on his own, but Steve loved the feel of it, the reassurance of his presence. “I bet you’re as hard as a rock, right now, aren’t you?” Tony asked. “Eager to taste and take; we’ll let you, when it’s time.”

“You have such a talented tongue,” Natasha joined in. “If your Dom here hadn’t fingered me to oblivion, I’d sit on your face. But for now, I want your cock.”

Steve had to turn his face away from her body, catch his breath against the onslaught of words and fantasies.

“You’re going to fuck her.” Tony’s voice rumbled in his ear. “Exactly as I say. Lean back, I know her tits are glorious but I want your hands on her calves.”

Steve followed the order on impulse, even though his hands lingered on her skin and his lips already missed the pebbled feel of her nipples.

“Spread her legs apart.”

He’d never seen a woman opening up before him, not like this, not outside of art or films. She was obviously aroused, and lifted on her elbows to watch.

“Go grab what’s left in my bag,” Natasha ordered, and Steve was confused for a moment before he realized the command was for Tony.

His hands ran along her skin of their own accord until Tony returned with a cockring and lube. Steve started to pull his hands away but Tony shook his head. “Continue with what you’re doing. I got this.”

And then Tony’s hand was on his cock, stroking once, twice, then pulling away to line up the cockring. Steve’s breath caught when Tony slid it on and covered him with lube. By the time Tony finished, Steve’s cock was jutting out in front of him, wet and ready.

Nat shifted forward, and shoved a pillow under her hips. Then Tony’s hands were on him, on his hip and on his cock, moving him until his cock brushed against her slit. Both Steve and Natasha moaned and Tony chuckled. He had Steve’s cock in hand and moved it along Natasha, pressing it into her clit and she thrust in response, so that he slid just a little further into her folds.

She was so warm, and Tony’s hand slid from his cock to settle on his other hip. He felt Tony’s lips press into his ear. “Fuck her, Steve.”

He followed the order, moving his hips forward and sliding into her. Nat caught his eye, smile crossing her face as he moved, inch after inch into her body. His cock was on fire, encased in the heat of her, and she was so very wet, more than anything he’d ever felt before and his eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation of it all. It was almost like her body was pulling him in, opening up for him.

“That’s right,” Natasha said when his balls pressed against her ass. “So good.”

“So good,” Tony repeated in his ear. “Now slide all the way out, so just the tip of your cock is inside her and then thrust back in.”

Steve did exactly as he said, even if it was all too much, no time to adjust, just the rush of them on either side of him, taking and giving. He thrust in and out and he was stuck with the sudden realization that this was really happening, he was really fucking Natasha. It was like his mind finally caught up to his body and his hips jerked out of control, the steady rhythm Tony had set faltering.

“He’s not going to last long,” Natasha said, her voice a mix of arousal and affection. “Even with the cockring.”

“No, he’s not.” Tony’s voice, on the other hand, sounded like it was solving a riddle. “Stop.”

Both Steve and Natasha groaned at the order, but Steve still followed it. “Slower.”

Steve whined, hips stuttering back to a start but with a tortuous slide that made everything feel that much more overwhelming.

“More,” Tony demanded, and Steve’s hips followed.

“More,” Natasha cried and, on pure instinct Steve grabbed her thighs and hitched them over his hips, reaching forward to drag his hands along her body once more.

“More,” Tony said, running his hands over Steve, up his shoulders, a tug at the collar, a squeeze of his ass.

“Yes,” Steve moaned, hips thrusting freely now, building and building. He slid his fingers into Natasha’s folds, circling until he found her clit.

“Yes,” Natasha gasped. “Right there.”

“Yes,” Tony whispered. “Look at her, how much this turns her on, how much she loves your cock. Go harder on her clit, she can take it.”

Steve did, and Natasha writhed under him, meeting each thrust with a flick of her hips until she was coming on his cock. She clenched against him over and over, and it was like her body wanted him to come, to burst inside her because it was unrelenting as she rode her orgasm on his cock. And then Steve was coming in bursts through the cockring, a gutpunch of pleasure that made it so he couldn’t even hold himself up anymore. He collapsed on Nat, whose arms came up to wrap around him and she felt so good, soft covered strength and the heady scent of his friend.

Tony’s hand gripped the collar again. Heat from his body soaked into Steve’s back as he leaned over them both. “That feel good?” he asked into the dip of Steve’s neck.

“Yes, Tony.”

Natasha let out a breathless laugh from underneath them both. “I’d certainly say so.”

“Good.” Tony’s hand left his neck, trailed down Steve’s back until he was pressing between Steve’s cheeks, finding his hole and fingering around the rim. “The two of you together, it was an honor to witness but holy hell, it made me harder than vibranium. So you know what we’re going to do now?” Steve heard the squeeze of the lube, presumably into Tony’s hand, but he couldn’t see, his eyes were on Nat. She met his gaze, a knowing tint to it that made Steve blush and she smirked, amusement twitching at its edges. “I’m going to fuck you.”

Two fingers, lubed and determined pushed into his body and started to stretch. Steve jerked and moaned into Natasha’s chest, the feel of her breast brushing against his cheek made his spent cock twitch and his ass clench around Tony’s fingers. “Lift up over Natasha. We don’t want to squish her while I take you nice and hard.”

It was difficult to follow the order, as Tony lined up his cock against Steve ass, but he managed. Nat pushed up a bit, resting against the headboard, eyes dancing with interest.

Tony slid in hard and fast and didn’t hold back. He fucked like he was already at the edge, ready to fall over, desperate for release. Steve looked over his shoulder to see Tony’s eyes were on Nat, narrowed with a certain challenge that sparked a jolt up Steve’s spine. Possession and claim, but also dancing with affection. “The show living up to its potential?” Tony asked between thrusts.

“You know it is,” Nat replied. Then she leaned over and pressed her lips against Steve’s. The kiss was chaste until Natasha bit his lower lip and above him he heard Tony gasp as his hips jerked once, before he came into Steve’s ass. Natasha pulled back until their lips barely touched and whispered, “Good boys.”

Later, after they had wiped down and were merely a pile of limbs in Steve and Tony’s bed, Tony excused himself. Both Steve and Natasha were blissed out enough to not hide their displeasure as he pulled away from the bed, but Tony only chuckled. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve smelled it before he saw it, opening his eyes to a forkful of vanilla cake with rainbow sprinkles. “I thought we’d save this one from the rest of the team, since it witnessed our deviance.”

“And you stuck your finger in it,” Natasha reminded, pushing herself up to sit on the bed.

“That too.”

Steve leaned in to take the piece. A burst of sweet mixed in with his afterglow and he drifted lazily, letting Tony feed him and listening to the sounds of Natasha and Tony laughing as they ate.

Chapter Text

“Come on, Steve, just like that, stroke for me.”

Tony leaned over him, pressing him into the deck chair, his spent cock resting against Steve’s thigh. The feeling of it was a reminder that they’d been at it for hours. Their skin had long dried from their swim, though Steve could still taste the chlorine on Tony's cheek.

“You’ve come, what? Twice already? Once when I was just rubbing against your bathing suit.”

“You were naked,” Steve reminded Tony, twisting his hand on the tip of his cock. “And I was in a speedo.”

“Oh I remember. Have I told you how happy I am that you fetched that out of the ocean for me?” Tony bent over further, to bite Steve’s ear, and chuckled when Steve shuddered against him.

“You—oh, god that feels so good—You ordered me too.”

“Exactly.” Tony licked down his jaw and nipped at Steve’s chin. “So good for me. And now you’re going to stroke yourself, because you just couldn’t get enough. You had to go and get hard again.” Tony tisked. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Fuck, Tony!” Steve arched his back, desperate to feel Tony’s body rub against him, wanting to feel him while he heard his filthy words. His balls tightened, pleasure sparking along his cock, and he fell over the edge again. Despite his previous orgasms, it felt so, so good, not a hint of strain or soreness. He felt like he could float in his afterglow, rest against Tony’s warm body and let his hardness wane with each breath. But he kept his hand around his cock because Tony hadn’t said otherwise, still stroking lightly and a part of Steve wondered if he could go forever, cycling between orgasm, Tony’s voice, and the feel of his lips and hands and ass, till the end of time.

“You’re not even near finished, are you? Stroke faster.” Steve followed his order easily. “You came plenty but there’s still more in there for me, isn’t there?”

“Yes, Tony!”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, and he had that look, not the one that led to Steve being tied to the bed, the one that led to twelve hour engineering binges and a very satisfied inventor. “I’m going to find a way, Steve, going to invent a way to milk you dry,” Tony whispered, right into his ear and Steve jerked in his hand, coming yet again, in long spurts that landed on his chest. “Beautiful.” Tony ran a finger through the come, rubbing it into Steve’s chest. Before Steve could catch his breath, Tony twisted his nipple, and he thought they were going to go again, but Tony pulled away. “You could come again, couldn’t you?”

Steve blushed, but nodded.

“Not until the next time.” Tony’s eyes darkened. “Don’t touch yourself until then.”

So, Steve shouldn’t have been surprised when Tony cornered him in the kitchen almost forty eight hours later with a firm grip on his hip. “Follow me.” Tony tugged him towards their bedroom, pushed him inside, and closed the door behind him. “Strip. Get on the bed.”

Arousal shot through Steve. Tony’s orders were quick, second-nature, and he was already falling under. Tony slowed once the collar was in his hands, coming to stand between Steve’s bare legs to gently slip it on and trace the skin around the leather.

“Let me show you,” he whispered conspiratorially. Steve waited as Tony turned back to the dresser and grabbed an iron man red cylinder from the dresser. “Do you know what this is?” Before he could even think to answer, Tony was talking again. “Of course you don’t, I just invented it. There are similar things, but nothing quite like it.” Tony pushed Steve’s shoulder back, and he free-fell onto the bed, letting Tony lead. Tony always led him to fabulous places.

Once he was sprawled out on the bed, Tony shoved a pillow under his hips and reached for the lube. “Did you wait like I told you?” he asked, opening the bottle and pouring some lube onto Steve’s hard cock, letting it trail between his cheeks.

“Yes, Tony,” he gasped as Tony spread the lube around, pressed a finger into his body. “Of course.”

“Good.” Tony brought the cylinder to the top of his cock, and Steve could see the gold interior. It looked soft, a plastic-like material that dimpled wherever Tony’s fingers touched. “I want to push you to your limits, see how far you can go.”

Then, all Steve could focus on was the toy surrounding the head of his cock. It was warmer than he expected, a hum that could only be vibrators emanating from its depths. Tony continued pushing it down his cock, then paused when it sheathed him halfway.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, then pushed it down fast, pulling it back right away. He repeated the motion over and over and Steve did his best, he gripped the sheets and forced his hips not to move, but it was so difficult. It felt too good, and soon his hips were thrusting up to meet the toy.

Tony hummed, and it didn’t make sense when all sensation stilled. Just the toy around his cock, without Tony’s hand to move it. Even the vibrators had stopped.

When he opened his eyes, Tony was so close, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “What did I say, Steve?”

He swallowed. “Not to move.”

“Exactly.” And with the word, the toy went wild on Steve’s cock. Tony didn’t move, he just watched as Steve thrashed, unable to stay still as the cylinder shifted and, hell, the suction. All around him the toy pulled like a hoover. “You shouldn’t have moved, Steve.” Tony’s voice was dark, deep. “I was going to go easy, but now...”

It was sucking too much, and Tony’s voice curled around his spine, goosebumps forming across his skin, his breath catching in his chest. The toy pulled his first orgasm right from his cock before Steve even knew what happened.

“That’s one,” Tony whispered, leaning down to bite at Steve’s nipple. “But we’ve just begun, isn’t that right?”

The toy continued its onslaught, and Steve could hear his own whines, even with blood pumping in his ears. Above him, Tony chuckled and the toy twisted. Steve’s hips lifted off the bed, instinctively trying to get more. His second orgasm built, tingling at the base of his cock and the toy was waiting for it, the suction amplifying as if it knew Steve was close.

“Tony!” he shouted as he came, mouth open as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes had fallen shut but he’d know the feel of Tony’s cock pressing against his bottom lip anywhere. Closing his mouth around Tony’s cock was second nature and they both moaned, Steve savoring the taste as much as he knew Tony savored the feel. He couldn’t suck as hard as the toy but he tried.

“That’s two,” Tony said, hand brushing into his hair as he thrust in his mouth. The toy slowed, but didn’t stop. It spun now, all around his cock, his orgasms adding to the lubricant, the sound of it fucking him echoing around the room.

“I bet three is just around the corner.” He thrust into Steve’s mouth, and Steve struggled to breath, wanting to take more. It took Tony’s fingers pulling at his collar for Steve to force himself to relax, let Tony’s cock slide down his throat and then Steve was floating as the toy fucked his cock and Tony fucked his mouth. “So beautiful, Steve. So good. I want you to come for me.”

The orgasm wrecked his whole body, shaking him so much that Tony had to hold his head still as he came down his throat. His lungs gasped for breath when Tony slid free from his mouth and then his warmth was pressed against Steve’s side. He had expected the toy to stop, an idle thought amongst the haze of his orgasms and Tony’s taste on his tongue, but it never did. It had stopped spinning and continued with short thrusts as Tony traced a lazy hand around his chest.

Tony lifted onto his elbow and Steve smiled up at him. A buzz had formed like an undercurrent in his veins, and it persisted with each twist and thrust of the toy. “I want you to keep it on as long as you can,” Tony said, fingertips trailing between his abs. “Would you like to do that for me? You can say—”

“Yes.”

Tony’s eyes shifted at the word, forming a new look that combined his love of sex and engineering. “I want to see how much you can take, how long until your body’s had enough, until you soften in the toy. It has sensors, and timers, and fuck, I love you, I can’t wait to know how much you can come.”

“I love you too, Tony,” he said, even as his hips arched into the suction. Tony looked awed, happy, and Steve couldn’t help but brush his hand through his hair, grip tightening when the toy twisted. “Whatever you want.”

Seventeen. Steve came seventeen times that evening. And when Tony pulled off the toy, he nuzzled at Steve’s spent cock, licking and cleaning Steve’s skin with his tongue as Steve floated, drained and sated.

Chapter Text

Six days holed up in a safe house with nothing but Clint and a pack of cards had taken its toll on Steve in more ways that one. When he finally pushed through the doors into the penthouse, he was tired, on edge, and sporting an irritating, itchy, full growth of beard. He caught sight of his face in the hall mirror and did a double take. He didn’t look like himself at all. He wondered if Tony would even recognize him.

Tony. The name alone was enough to settle him. He took a few deep breaths before tossing his go bag in the corner and padding into their apartment. He was trying to decide if he should shower and shave or just make a beeline straight for the workshop, so he could feel Tony in his arms again as soon as possible, when a hand slipping around his waist from behind answered the question for him. “Tony…”

Lips pressed against the back of his neck. “I was worried about you, darling.” Steve let his head fall back onto Tony’s shoulder. “It’s all taken care of?”

“Yes,” Steve’s eyes drifted shut. “Pierce got carted off by the WSC, Insight is dead. Bucky was right about all of it.” It had been a harrowing mission—him and Clint and Nat, trying to keep it as under the radar as possible and not throw up any red flags before they had the intel they needed. As pleased as he was that Bucky had been able to help and that the team was starting to trust him, the confirmation that HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD still sat in Steve’s stomach like a hot ball of lead.

“And now you’re home.”

“Now I’m home.” Home and Tony. That was all he wanted.

The lips trailed over his shoulder then curved up towards his jawline. Then stopped. Tony’s heat vanished from his back as he spun around in front of Steve, eyes wide. “Whoa.”

Steve staggered a little at the loss of support, and Tony grabbed his arms. “What?”

“You have a beard.”

“Oddly enough, razors aren’t something they prioritize when setting up an emergency safe house.” Steve’s brain finally caught up, and he realized that Tony’s eyes were darkening in a familiar way, eyes fixed on Steve’s chin. Steve leaned in closer and dropped his voice low. “You like it?” The thrill of turning Tony on was shifting the edginess of battle into the edginess of anticipation.

“I do…” Tony reached up and cupped Steve’s jaw, sliding his fingers through the coarse hair. “But it does take some getting used to.”

Steve tried to smolder, but exhaustion rolled over him in another wave and his shoulders drooped. “It itches,” he admitted.

Tony chuckled. “Come on, gorgeous. You’re asleep on your feet, let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.”

Tony took Steve’s hand and started pulling him towards the bathroom. When Steve caught in his wake and fell into step, Tony started working his clothes off, letting them fall to the floor as they walked. Every piece of the uniform that slipped from his body took with it a little of the tension Steve had built over the last six days. Tony drove him straight into the shower, shedding his own clothes in record time.

JARVIS had already started the shower jets and Steve sighed and let his eyes fall closed as the warm water caressed him from all sides. Tony’s hands joined in, petting and stroking Steve's chest, shoulders, back. The hands disappeared, there was the click of a bottle, and they reappeared, rubbing shampoo into Steve’s hair, nails scraping gently across his scalp. The water rinsed away the dirt and sweat and blood of the mission, washing it down the drain and leaving Steve feeling free.

Once he was clean, Tony kissed Steve until his eyes fluttered back open, then led him back into the bathroom. Tony tossed a towel on a stool in the corner, then sat Steve down on it. He pulled on a pair of boxers, then started rummaging around in the drawers. Steve watched with detached interest, sinking into the dreamy, drifty place that he usually only reached after sex. Tony came up with Steve’s razor and a can of shaving cream, and Steve’s heart skipped a beat.

“You want it gone, right?” Tony asked, another question woven in between the words.

Steve took a steadying breath. “Yes, Tony.” He knew he was saying yes to more than removing the beard, needing the grounding of Tony taking care of him. Needing Tony.

“Alright then.” Tony took a minute setting out his supplies, and Steve tried to will his body to calm down. He’d helped Tony shave a number of times, usually before he went to work, but those had been little domestic moments, one of many things Tony would ask him to do, just to see him do it, to keep their connection alive. It was still hot, because being with Tony was always hot, but this was charged. Tony was going to shave him.

Steve swallowed as Tony approached him. To his surprise, Tony sat down, straddling Steve’s thighs, knees on either side of his hips. He raked his eyes over Steve’s face, focused, heated, and Steve’s cock twitched to life. Tony squirted a dollop of shaving cream into his hand and started spreading it over Steve’s cheeks and chin. Focused on keeping his mouth closed and his head still, Steve kept his eyes glued to Tony’s, watching them dart around as he worked. Steve’s fingers itched to cover Tony’s thighs, slide under the fabric of his boxers, but he suspected Tony would stop him if he did, so he kept his arms loose at his sides.

Tony took his chin between his fingers, two solid points of connection, vibrant and electric, and tilted his head to the side. The first scratch of the razor sent a bolt of lightning down Steve’s spine and he had to hold his breath to keep from shifting in his seat.

“Good job,” Tony whispered, and Steve sunk into the praise. The fingers on his chin dropped briefly to stroke along his neck, pushing him further under, then settled on his chin again, guiding and moving him under the razor. He let himself be maneuvered, twisting first one way, then the other, giving into Tony’s control with blissful release.

Tony finished one side, leaned over to clean the razor under the tap, then started the other. As he worked, he shifted his hips forward, up Steve’s thighs, until he was settled fully in Steve’s lap. Steve’s bare cock, hard now, rubbed against the soft fabric of Tony’s boxers, and he couldn’t help but arch up into the contact. Tony leaned back, tipping Steve’s chin back and forth, forehead creased as he focused on his task, and the angle pressed Steve’s needy cock between them. He couldn’t help the groan that slipped from his lips, and Tony’s eyes snapped from his cheek to his eyes.

“Shh,” Tony soothed, brushing his fingers over Steve’s jaw, then betrayed that by rocking his hips forward until Steve groaned again. “I’ll take care of you.” He stroked the razor along Steve’s jawbone, gently pulling the skin taut as he worked along, wiping the razor with a towel between swipes. The cool air hit each new section of skin that Tony bared, sending mini-shivers down Steve’s back.

With one last swipe, Tony leaned back to survey his work, tilting Steve’s face back and forth with the firm grip on his chin. Apparently satisfied, he ran a corner of the towel under warm water and wiped Steve’s face clean. “There he is.” He smiled, and Steve grinned dopily back. Tony’s hips shifted again, and Steve arched against him, huffing out a whiney breath. “It’s okay, love. I said I’d take care of you.”

Keeping the hand on his chin, Tony tipped Steve back until he leaned against the wall, then dropped his face to Steve’s chest. The first nip of teeth against his nipple made Steve start and twist, wanting to pull away from the sharp sensation, but wanting it again even more. The hand on his chin shifted, Tony’s thumb brushing along his bottom lip then easing his mouth open. His tongue darted out, tasting Tony’s skin and the bitter tang of traces of shaving cream he hadn’t caught with the towel.

Tony nipped again, then his tongue laved after, soothing. He worked his way down Steve’s chest until he slipped to the floor between Steve’s knees. He went back to his nipples, biting, licking, sucking. Steve didn’t realize his hips were kicking forward, uselessly rubbing his leaking cock on empty air, until Tony’s free hand came to rest on his thigh, stilling him. Steve sucked Tony’s thumb between his lips, needing something, anything, to keep him from spinning away into outer space.

Tony’s mouth dropped further down, then, without warning, slid hot and wet over Steve’s cock. “Ah!” Steve’s hips rocked into the rush of pleasure. Tony’s thumb hooked over Steve’s bottom teeth and the rest of his fingers splayed wide, wrapping around Steve’s freshly shaven jaw. The sensitive skin tingled at the contact as Tony slid down, sucking him in slow and deep. His pace never quickened, and Tony’s hand never moved from Steve’s jaw. Time blurred as Steve sunk into his seat, the whole world narrowed to Tony’s hot mouth and Tony’s firm grip.

His orgasm built slowly, in ever-growing waves that crashed through his body and left him shaking and whimpering around Tony’s thumb, then broke again and again as Tony sucked him all the way down, swallowing every drop. Steve wanted to reach up and brush his fingers through Tony’s hair, trace his spit-slicked lips then pull him in for a kiss, but his arms weighed three hundred pounds and his eyes kept sliding out of focus. Tony rose up in front of him, releasing the hold on his jaw and instead, cupping his cheeks gently between both hands. The touch on his freshly-shaven skin summoned one last shudder from his exhausted body.

“Come on, love, let's get you to bed.”

Chapter Text

The party was a bit on the boring side for Tony’s taste, but he’d come to expect that from SHIELD. Fury had spoken to the side of his face for all of thirty seconds before wandering off to brood near someone else. Tony glanced at his watch. How was it only 8:54 at night?

Steve was on the other side of the room, all smiles as a group of baby agents fawned over him, and he wondered, yet again, why they agreed to host this event at the Tower.

The answer was standing in front of him, a tentative smile across his face that still seemed out of place, as he chatted with the barista that someone (probably Steve) had invited. Bucky Barnes had done a lot for SHIELD, probably saved the whole damn enterprise with the information he was able to deliver them. SHIELD had been infiltrated by Hydra, and Barnes knew all about it. With his information, Steve was able to burst in and save the day.

So they were having a party.

Tony balled up his cocktail napkin and threw it up in the air before catching it in a fist. Natasha stood nearby talking to Hill, and despite never taking her eyes off the Deputy Director, Tony knew her smirk was for him. It was a nice smirk, pretty even, especially since it was from Nat. But with nothing else accompanying it, Tony was still very much bored.

The barista blushed and looked away from Bucky, who looked a little flushed himself. She leaned in close to ask him a question, and when he pointed in the direction of the bathroom, she moved her hand to Bucky’s bicep to thank him. Well, well. Barnes made a lady friend, Steve would be over the moon.

Now, Bucky was standing in the middle of the party alone, looking a bit lost. And Tony was bored, so he put down his empty drink on the coffee table and wandered over to his side.

“She’s pretty,” he said apropos of nothing. He wished he still had his empty glass to fidget with.

Bucky's eyes followed his new friend as she left the room. “Can’t say I didn’t notice.”

Tony barked out a laugh. “High praise coming from the monosyllabic.”

“Huh?”

“Exactly.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “I talk,” he said, almost growling.

“Relax, relax.” Tony lifted his hands up in defense. “I’m only joking with you.” Great, he’d pissed off Steve’s best friend in point five seconds and—no, wait. A smirk tugged at the side of Bucky’s pressed lips. “You’re fucking with me?”

“Got it in one,” Bucky replied. “Stevie did say you were a genius and all.”

Tony followed Bucky’s gaze to where Steve was now pushing Sam into the center of the baby agents, making wing-shaped gestures in the space behind the soldier. His eyes were bright as he told his story, always looking so beautiful. When Steve’s eyes raised, as if feeling the weight of Tony’s gaze on him, they shared a quick, private smile, before turning back to their conversations. “What else did he say about me?”

Bucky snorted.

“What?” Tony asked because he’d never seen that expression on Barnes’ face, eyes rolling and head shaking. It looked odd on the broody man, but not out of place. More like he’d forgotten how to be amused but around Steve he could easily remember. And also now apparently around Tony. Huh.

“You two.”

“Gonna need some more words there, Buck-er-oo.”

“Buck-er-oo?” Another eyebrow lift, another snort. There was a new ease to him that Tony only noticed because he’d spent all party watching him uncomfortably interact with strangers. “Do you nickname everything, Stark?”

“Quite possibly. Now BuckyBee, you were going to tell me what it was you found oh so amusing.”

Tony watched Bucky look back at Steve and a seriousness flashed across his eyes. Affection was there too, at the corners of his smile. “He never could’ve been this happy back then. Not when everything was...Back then, it remained unsaid, not like this, not how it is here.” Tony’s breath caught, his eyes now fixed on Steve but his focus hanging on every word falling from Barnes’ mouth. “You and him. It makes some of this, of us ending up in this century, makes it worth it.”

He had to shake his head before he managed to form a reply, and still the words started out shaky. “I know for a fact he had some very happy moments in the army.” Tony smirked. “He told me stories.”

“I’m sure he has.” Bucky laughed. Then he leaned in and added, “But I doubt he shared any of the embarrassing ones.”

Tony almost shrieked in delight, but he was in the middle of a party and surrounded by SHIELD so all he did was bounce on his heels and grinned wildy. “Oh, do tell.”

Bucky chuckled, both of them looking back towards Steve. “You should’ve seen Cap in France.”

“France? What happened in France?” Tony could imagine it, Captain America surrounded by the Howling Commandos, driving through wartime Paris in a tank, or something equally as heroic. “How did he embarrass himself in France? Like, throughout the whole country? Did he toss the shield into the Eiffel tower or something?”

“You ever seen him around a good looking fella or lady who speaks French?”

“Je quoi?”

“I’ll take your over eager expression as a no?”

“Go on…”

A flicker of a smile and another, almost imperceivable headshake.  “We’d just settled in Toulouse for the night,” Barnes began, gaze turning back to Steve, but Tony couldn’t stop staring at the look in Bucky’s eye, like he was experiencing it all over again. “We hadn’t seen battle in a week or so, getting a bit soft, and a lot antsy. A nearby town had a bar that served you no matter who you fought for, and I don’t think I ever saw Stevie get so flustered. There was this man, auburn hair and, I don’t know, he looked like a normal fella to me but Steve kept glancing over and every time he spoke, well, Steve would shift, squirm, I think he even squeaked once.”

“Oh dear god, this is glorious.” Tony could imagine it all. Steve out of uniform, undercover, probably hunched over his beer with his hair perfectly parted, even with a war going on outside. “Squeaking, I mean—”

“That’s not even the embarrassing part, Stark.”

Steve was watching them now, Tony could see his big, blond, blurry bob in his periphery. “Come on, Barnes.”

Bucky snorted again, and Tony was just getting used to the noise coming from the man when he was completely blindsided by the metal arm coming up to pat Tony’s shoulder, affectionately, “You know Stevie, never was good with dames—or, you know." He gestured at what Tony could only assume was his maleness, before continuing. "He could run headfirst into the nearest losing fight, but he couldn’t get the courage to ask someone to the fair, or if they wanted a drink. I bet he didn’t make the first move with you, did he?”

Tony chuckled while turning to Steve like there was a magnetic pull between them. He was still watching them, the baby agents off with the bird guy—the new bird guy—somewhere. Steve had this flummoxed sort of expression on his face, like he couldn’t process the scene in front of him. Tony could tell Steve welcomed the sight: him and James Buchanan Barnes bonding. But he looked more, well, awed than anything else.

“He didn’t,” Tony finally answered. “I...courted him.” He played with the word in his mouth, it sounded right, fit. “Then I asked to kiss him.”

“How polite.”

Tony faked a salute. “Always a perfect gentleman.”

Barnes laughed again, head shaking. “Proves my point. He sits, and they come to him. At least, they started to after the change. Before....” He waved his hand to express Steve's lack of romantic success pre-serum. “So there we were in France and this man approaches our spot at the bar, pulls out the empty barstool and slides into the seat, all with his eyes on Steve, who is squirming under the attention the entire time. The Frenchman looked like an average bloke to me, but what do I know? Steve did a pretty good job of staring at the dirt on the bar, until the man opened his mouth and asked, ‘Est-ce que tu es aussi doux que tes yeux? ’”

“Whoa, nice French, monsieur Barnes. 1940s French guy went straight for a line about his baby blues. Some things never change.”

“If you say so. But yeah, then he was all, ‘Est-ce que je peux t'offrir à boire?’ and I swear Steve turned redder than I’d ever seen him before, as he gathered the courage to accept the invitation for a drink.”

“But Cap—”

“Can’t get drunk, I know. But listen, it didn’t much matter because as soon as the drink arrives, the Frenchman leans in close and whispers something in Stevie’s ear that made him jolt and somehow manage to spill the drink forward, all over himself and his gentleman caller.”

Tony barked out a laugh, and Bucky bent over, near gasping at the memory.

A hand, strong and familiar, slipped into Tony’s. “I don’t know if I like this…”

“Oh, you love this,” Bucky said before Tony could, so instead he leaned into Steve’s solid frame and nodded along.

“What are you telling him, Buck?”

“Oh, nothing—”

“Parlez-vous français?"  Tony interrupted and behind him Steve jerked forward, hand tightening around Tony’s.

“Buck,” Steve almost whined. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, mais si. Si il l'a fait,” Tony replied around a smile.

Steve groaned and dropped his head, in what seemed to be a strategy to hide in Tony’s side. His cheek brushed Tony’s, and he couldn’t help but turn his head and whisper a litany of French filth in Steve’s ear.

Barnes muttered something about them needing to get a room, but it wasn’t until Bucky pushed at Tony’s shoulder that Tony pulled away from Steve's ear. “That’s the color he turned back in Toulouse! And I didn’t even get a chance to tell you about the lady in Bordeaux that sold silk stockings and asked Steve, in French, if—.”

“We have to go!” Steve announced abruptly, and Tony was being pulled away. He looked over his shoulder towards Bucky who was once again bent over laughing.

The party had turned out not to be that boring after all. The end was certainly lively. “Où allons-nous, Steve?” he asked and Steve growled, as Tony pulled them into the elevator.

“You’re not going to stop are you?” His words were breathless, his eyes fixed on Tony’s mouth.

He advanced on where Steve stood in the corner of the elevator, lips parted, panting. “Non. Tu sembles clairement apprécier.”

“Yes,” Steve gasped, head hitting the elevator wall. “I appreciate, alright.”

The elevator opened at the penthouse, and they followed Barnes’ advice—he was the guest of honor after all—and they found themselves a room. “Voilà! Come with me," he ordered in French. Steve followed.

“Bien,” Tony replied, running his hands over Steve’s shoulders. Steve moaned before Tony’s lips even hit his skin. Then, Tony was licking and biting, while Steve shuddered under him. He could feel Steve’s cock against his leg, hard and pressing against his pants. Tony leaned into it, applying more pressure as he drove Steve up against the wall and watched Steve fall apart under his hands. “Très bien,” Tony whispered, bringing his lips back to Steve’s ear to whisper in French, “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? When you heard them all speak, you wanted someone to push you up against the wall and take you. C'est ça, Steve. Tu est si bon pour moi.”

Steve arched his hips into Tony’s, baring his neck as if his body begged for his collar. Pupils blown and lax in his arms, he was already drifting over the edge, so beautiful, when he whispered, “Oui, Tony.”  

Translations:

Je quoi? - I… what?

Est-ce que tu es aussi doux que tes yeux? - Are you as sweet as your eyes?

Est-ce que je peux t'offrir à boire? - Can I offer you a drink?

Parlez-vous français? - Do you speak French?

Oh, mais si. Si il l'a fait. -  Oh but yes, yes he did.

Où allons-nous, Steve? - Where are we going, Steve?

Non. Tu sembles clairement apprécier. - No. You seem to appreciate.

Bien/Très bien - Good/Very good.

C'est ça, Steve. Tu est si bon pour moi - That's it, Steve. You're so good to me.

Oui, Tony - Yes, Tony

Chapter Text

The vast blue sky and vivid green trees flew past the windows, but Steve only had eyes for the man in the driver’s seat. Steve sat twisted sideways, head tipped back against the headrest, and watched Tony drive. One hand on the wheel, and one resting lightly on the gear shift, Tony flew down the back country roads of upstate New York. His dark sunglasses blocked Steve’s view of his eyes, but he was entranced by the curve of his jaw and the line of his shoulders and the long fingers that wrapped around the leather-bound steering wheel. His hair whipped around, the wild wind dislodging the strands in a joyful dance.

They were chasing the last pieces of summer, before the green turned to gold and it was too cold to have the top down. Tony was a fantastic driver, weaving into the turns in a way that made Steve’s stomach leap with excitement, though the thrill was nothing to the way it made Steve feel to watch the muscles bunch in Tony’s arm as he shifted gears.

Tony glanced over at Steve, then back at the road, but his hand came up from the gear shift and his fingers wove into Steve’s hair. Steve purred under the touch, amazed and grateful that something so simple could send him under so fast. He let the floating feeling have him, slipping under into the space where the only thing he was, was Tony’s.

The fingers in his hair tightened their hold slightly, nails scraping gently over his scalp, then relaxed and resumed their petting. Tony shot him another look, and Steve blinked serenely at him, melting into his touch.

Under the dark glasses, Steve caught the hint of something heated flicker in the corner of Tony’s eye, then his lips parted in a soft smile. The fingers tightened again but this time they didn’t relax, they held Steve tight, using his hair to press his cheek against the leather headrest. Steve sucked in a long, slow breath. The grip was perfectly painful now and Steve sunk into it further, forcing his muscles to relax one by one, and his body to give everything into that hold.

Tony squeezed and Steve gasped, his scalp igniting—at places raw and tingling and at others, sharp where his hair was caught tight between Tony’s fingers. Tony flexed his fingers out, grabbed a fuller handful of Steve’s hair and squeezed again. Steve bit back a moan. It was such a simple hold, but it provided Tony with so much control. He could pull Steve along with him—make him kneewalk across the floor, stumbling forward in a rush to keep the grip from ripping his hair out—or pin him down—pushing his head hard into the mattress as he fucked into him from behind. He could hold Steve away, keeping him from the touch he craved, or pull him in, into a kiss.

Tony’s eyes stayed on the road, as if his hand was working Steve into a frenzy of its own accord. Steve arched into the hold, briefly relaxing the tension, but Tony just gripped harder. A shocked gasp was punched out of Steve’s mouth when Tony’s hand yanked hard, dragging Steve’s head over the center console and into his lap. He pushed Steve’s face into the fabric of his pants. Steve could feel the press of Tony’s hard cock against his cheek and arousal lit up inside him like a bonfire. His breath came out in short, staccato gasps, working through the adrenaline rush that shot to his heart at the turn their scenic afternoon drive had taken. The console pressed uncomfortably into his chest and the seatbelt clasp carved into his hip.

Tony’s hand never slackened, holding Steve firmly against his lap. The urgency of the awkward position, in the car with the top down, as if Tony couldn’t wait for them to be alone, shot straight to Steve’s cock and he was rock hard in a second. He twisted a little, pulling his hair even harder, but positioning his mouth over Tony’s cock so he could breathe hot, moist air over the bulge in his pants and mouth at him through the fabric.

Tony gave Steve’s head a little shake as if to say if you want it so bad, do something about it. And, god, Steve wanted it. He worked his right hand up next to his face, bracing with his left so he wouldn’t gracelessly headbutt Tony in the crotch. Tony dropped his hair briefly to shift gears as he slowed to a halt, turned, then powered up to speed again. Steve gasped at the sudden release, barely able to process the rush of feeling in his scalp, then again when Tony’s hand landed back on his head. He pushed with a flat palm, nearly suffocating Steve in his lap for a moment, then furrowed into his hair and gripped.

Steve’s head spun, half with lack of oxygen and half with wild arousal. He scrambled to open Tony’s jeans and work his cock free. Tony provided no help, tugging and petting his hair, scratching his nails through, then grabbing a painfully tight handful again. Finally freed, Steve sucked Tony’s cock down too hard and choked, backing off, only to have Tony push him down again. He focused on relaxing his throat and breathing carefully through his nose. The bitter precum on his tongue was confirmation that Tony was as turned on as he was and the knowledge pushed him into action, sucking and stroking with his tongue, doing his best to get Tony off in the limited space between the vice-grip in his hair and bottoming out.

Steve’s cock throbbed between his legs, refusing to be ignored. Tony’s only rule seemed to be that he could do whatever he wanted with Steve’s hair, so Steve curled his right hand back over the console and popped the button on his own jeans. The car swerved around a turn, jostling Steve in his precarious position. Tony’s cock hit the back of his throat and the console dug into his chest. It was so awkward, and unexpected, and desperate, though Tony was cool, calm, and quiet above him. Steve felt like he was high on something, needy whimpers breaking from his throat every time Tony let him back off far enough to let the sounds out.

Steve worked his hand into his own pants and clutched his cock; the relief was almost painful. He didn’t know if Tony could see, or if it was a coincidence that at that moment, he started using the grip in Steve’s hair to ease his head up then press down again. Steve gave into the pull and push, letting his head hang heavy in the grip, the pain sending electric shocks down his spine and into his cock. Spit dribbled helplessly out of his mouth and his chest heaved against the console, too close to draw full breaths.

His own hand on his cock squeezed too hard as well, emulating the grip in his hair, dragging up his length as if he could pull the orgasm out of himself forcefully. Tony’s hips shifted forward again, and that simple sign that he was enjoying this, combined with the throb of his cock against Steve’s lips and the burst of bitter precum on his tongue, pushed Steve over the edge. He keened when he came, choking on Tony’s cock and scrambling for some kind of purchase with his left hand as the gearshift dug cruelly into his side.

Steve thrust into his fist, chasing the last shudders of orgasm, and Tony’s hand shifted in his hair again, driving him down and pulling him up faster now, as if Steve were nothing more than a toy he was fucking. “Fuck,” Tony gasped out, and Steve moaned, squeezing his eyes closed and swallowing around the head of Tony’s cock. A hot burst of come filled his mouth and Tony grip redoubled, slamming Steve’s face down until his lips hit the zipper of Tony’s jeans and holding him there while he pulsed down Steve’s throat.

Tony’s grip finally released, and Steve slumped back down into his seat, gasping, come dripping over his lip, but he was too desperate for oxygen to lick it back up. His whole body sung, scalp tingling, throat raw, cock still half-hard and wet. As he shifted back up to sitting, the wind caught his hair and whipped it wild, sending the sensitive nerves in his scalp vibrating again. It was a vivid, intense satiation, and he knew it would be a while before he could resurface again. Tony reached over again, stroked a thumb across Steve’s cheek, then pressed his palm lightly over Steve’s heart, feeling the pounding there and the slowly settling heave of his lungs. The palm skated lower, brushing over Steve’s lap and sending new shivers through his core. Finally, it settled in Steve’s hand, fingers woven between Steve’s, palms pressed together, as they flew down the empty road.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Tony grumbled for the nine millionth time.

Steve grinned at him and tossed the tent bag on a nice, flat-looking spot. “You’re going to love it.”

“I’m going to love you,” Tony mumbled. “Everything else is suspect.”

“Hey, you’re the one that said I could pick our next trip.” Steve slipped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist. “Also, I brought marshmallows.”

Tony’s weight settled back against Steve, but he crossed his arms over his chest. Then he sighed, gave in. “Okay, I’ll love those too.” Steve pressed a kiss to his cheek then unpacked the foldable chairs and installed Tony in one while he worked on the tent.

It had taken them most of the day to get all the way out to the middle of nowhere, so it wasn’t long before the sun dipped threateningly low and they started talking dinner. Steve made for the firepit, but Tony stopped him, proclaiming that this was the one thing he’d be doing on this trip because he was so damn good at starting fires.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve quipped back. “Why do you think DUM-E follows you around everywhere with an extinguisher?”

Tony pouted and threw the barbeque lighter at Steve who caught it, laughing, and tossed it back. True to his word, ten minutes later, a merry blaze was crackling in the pit.

They cooked potatoes over the fire, covering them in cheese before eating them right out of the foil. As the sun set, Tony began grumbling about cold and mosquitoes and marched off towards the car. Steve was just starting to worry that Tony had decided to hide out for the rest of the weekend, when he reappeared, swimming in one of Steve’s hoodies and reeking of bug spray.

Tony grumbled to himself as he stomped past and Steve reached out and grabbed his arm, halting his progress. He tugged until Tony gave in and tipped down, sitting sideways across Steve’s lap, with his legs hanging over the chair’s arm. Steve tucked Tony against his chest and slid one hand into the wide front pocket of the hoodie, flat against Tony’s stomach. “Can I toast you a marshmallow?” he asked.

Tony sniffed and snuggled deeper into Steve’s lap. “If you must.”

Steve chuckled and lifted the bag of marshmallows and a stick from beside his chair. He held the stick out, close enough that Tony remained settled on his lap as he turned the treat over the hot coals. When it was evenly brown on all sides, he pulled it back and held it out towards Tony. Tony plucked it off the stick, leaving a glob of gooey, melted sugar behind, and popped it in his mouth.

“Another?” Steve asked, and Tony gave him a duh look, still chewing. Steve speared another marshmallow and sent it out over the fire.

“You can have the next one, if you want.” Tony sucked the sweet fluff off the ends of his fingers, distracting Steve momentarily.

“Hmm? No that’s okay. I don’t like them.”

“You don’t—? You only brought them for me?”

“Yeah.” Steve rotated his stick, focused now on getting an even toasting. He knew Tony was staring at him, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Tony still didn’t seem used to Steve doing nice things for him out of the bedroom, and Steve had found the best thing to do was to ignore his weird reactions, and let Tony get accustomed to it on his own. No doubt he was used to being the person who bought presents and sent a private jet and ordered special food he knew his date would like, but it seemed people rarely did that kind of thing for him. Steve wasn’t much for a private jet, but he could pamper Tony in his own way.

He held out another golden marshmallow, waiting until Tony pulled his gaze from Steve’s face to grab the candy and put it in his mouth.

They stayed out until the fire died too low to warm them, and the smoke weakened enough to let the bugs find them again. Steve immediately felt the loss when Tony climbed out of the their shared chair, but looked forward to huddling together in the tent all night instead.

The fire doused and the food put away, they crawled inside the tent and shucked their clothes before tucking into their large, double sleeping bag. Tony flicked off the flashlight, plunging them into darkness, then curled up against Steve, rubbing chilled feet against his calves.

The air was crisp, despite the hot day they’d had, and it smelled like pine trees and wood smoke. Crickets buzzed, and far away there must be water because Steve could make out the soft plunk plunk of a bullfrog looking for a mate. Nature all around them, coupled with the flapping of the tent and the press of a naked body against his, sent Steve rocketing back to another time, another life.

“It was like this sometimes,“ he said quietly. Tony must have sensed Steve meant something more than that because he stayed silent, though his hand tightened against Steve’s side—a grounding presence. “We would hike through the mud all day in hopes of doing some kind of good, finding a HYDRA camp, or liberating POWs, but it didn’t always turn out well. We’d end up back at some half-washed out camp, dirty and frustrated and hungry.

“We’d eat crappy food, and not enough of it, but then the sun would set and we’d manage a fire, if we could, and sometimes the guys would sing, or tell stories. And I—we’d go back to our tent—out there no one cared who you were sharing with—and we were tired and sore, but we could take some time to get lost in each other…” Steve trailed off, the memories a twisted sculpture of sadness and bittersweet nostalgia and skin-tingling heat.

And now he was here, but it wasn’t hard roots against his back, it was the world’s most expensive air mattress. And his feet weren’t a mess of angry blisters that would heal by morning only to be rubbed raw again. And the man in his arms was real and alive and Tony, and he knew he’d never loved anything the way he loved him. Heat pooled in his core, suddenly wound up and vibrating with the here and aliveness of this day. “You know…" He scraped his nails across the soft skin of Tony’s stomach. “There are benefits to this whole camping thing.”

Tony made an amused noise against Steve’s shoulder. “Really? What might those be?”

“Well, for one, there’s no one around for miles. No one to hear anything.”

Tony shifted, tensed. Steve could feel his body responding to the thought. Tony’s fingers laced through Steve’s. “Has that ever stopped you before?”

“Maybe. A little.”

“Really? You can be even louder than you already are?” Steve could hear that Tony was grinning wickedly in the dark, and he rolled over until he lay half across Steve’s chest.

“Maybe. I mean, you’re the scientist, right? You should probably do some experimenting. Test it.” Steve gasped as Tony’s hand slid between his legs. “Who knows how loud I can be if I let go completely? You should, uhh, should find out.” Tony had barely started touching him and he was already slipping into soft and open and needy. “ Yes, Tony, please touch me. I’ll scream for you. Guh. I’ll wake up this whole goddamn forest. Scare the bears.”

Tony’s hand screeched to a halt. “Are there bears out here, Rogers?! What the fuck?! I told you I should have brought the armor!”

Chapter Text

He missed Tony. That was all. He’d been gone for days and now there was this, beckoning Steve. It had attracted him in the store, and he had brought it into the tower, but it wasn’t until he slid on top of their bedsheets with the catalogue, that he finally admitted that, maybe, he was more than a little interested in this idea.

Steve's mind kindly supplied the memory of Tony photographing him, now altered to include the contents of the open page. His finger traced over the image and he wondered how it would feel if it were Tony’s fingers running over his own—

A vidcall rang through the room, and the corner of the television flickered with Tony’s face as his call came through the line. Steve moved fast, tossing the catalogue out of the frame and straightening up before answering. “Hello, Tony.”

Tony’s brown eyes immediately narrowed. Steve shifted.

“You’re out of breath,” Tony observed. “And flushed.” His analytical expression transformed with his smirk. “Am I interrupting some alone time? Usually better without the pajama pants on but who am I to judge? Please, don’t stop on my account.”

Steve let out a puff of laughter. “I wasn’t—” he broke off, lifting his hand in a ‘you know what I mean,’ sort of gesture, then letting it fall on the bed. It landed on the catalogue.

“What’s that?”

Steve felt his face go beet red. “Noth..ing?”

It was Tony’s turn to laugh, this time loud and knowing. “Oh, so I was interrupting. Do share with the class, my love.”

Steve felt the twist of embarrassment churn in his stomach, but he knew he would share with Tony. Not because he ordered him to, but because Tony would understand, would know what to do with this curiosity, even when Steve didn’t know himself. With Tony, it was safe. Tony would know what to do.

He slid the catalogue into view, left open on the page Steve had been looking at. A beautifully fit man posed in the center, arms splayed overhead in a way no one stood normally but it accented the jut of his hip. His leg was turned out giving Steve an intimate view of his inner thigh, sprinkled with hair against his pale skin. Above it all was the blue elastic, gripping tight against the weight of the man’s bulge as it pressed against the delicate curl of lace. A sinful decadence radiated from the man, his without-a-care stare an obvious contradiction to the arousal the lace couldn’t hide. When he first saw the catalogue, he told himself it was the pretty, half naked men, but he knew the truth, there was attraction there, but also envy.

On the screen, Tony’s eyes darkened as he saw the image, and Steve watched how his gaze traced from the catalogue over Steve’s body, felt it ignite a line of fire in its wake. “Oh, my naughty Captain. In blue, huh? Yes.” He drew out the word. “That would look good on you.” He nodded as if it all made sense, heated eyes leaving Steve for just a moment. Tony had known what Steve had fantasized about, knew that the catalogue was more than titillation, had seen his curiosity even if Steve himself did not understand it.  

Steve shifted on the bed while Tony did something offscreen, then he turned his attention back to him. Tony’s grin had turned from aroused amusement, to something more predatory. “I bought them. They’ll arrive tomorrow.” He paused, making sure Steve was paying attention before he continued, “You’ll be wearing them when I return the day after tomorrow. You’ll put them on first thing in the morning and wait with them on until I arrive. Do you understand?”

Steve nodded. Unable to form words, unsure of what to say. Tony considered him. “You have the best ideas, don’t you Steve?”

Tony was right, Tony took care of him and he was curious. The idea was sexy in a way Steve had never considered he could be, and with Tony, he could explore. “Yes, Tony. Thank you, Tony.”

“My love, already so sweet for me. And here I was just calling to say goodnight and—Oh.” Pepper’s face popped into the frame, and with it a wave of her manicured hand.

“We really need to leave, Steve,” she said. “Till next—”

The call ended, and Steve was left with nothing but a blank screen and a tent in his pants. He rolled onto his side, tossed the catalogue on the nightstand, and tried his best to fall asleep.

The next thirty-six hours were torture. The day of Tony’s arrival, Steve was up and out of bed early, ants under his skin until he crossed the room and opened the ornate wooden box that held his collar. Slipping it around his neck was a transformation. In his veins, under his skin, Steve settled. Only then, could he look at the small package in the corner. Inconspicuous cardboard held together by packaging tape. So ordinary, on the outside. He bit at the corner of his lip as he walked over, grabbing Tony’s black SI zipup hoodie off the ottoman as he passed by it. The smell of Tony, its softness, surrounded him as he zipped it over his bare chest. It was like Tony was all around him, even while he was miles away.

By the time he reached the package, a flutter of excitement had bloomed in his chest. He wanted this. It was his silly idea, he recalled, as he ripped open the box and—Not so silly now. His breath caught at the sight of the lace. He felt his cheeks flush, and he fisted the fabric. The thought of standing there, alone in the room, with the lace on—A jolt of humiliation twisted the spot at the base of his cock. He pushed down his pajama pants, then slid the garment on and pulled his pants back up, quickly. He wanted Tony.

Tony. He looked at the clock. It wouldn’t be long now, and Tony had given him his orders, so he went to the roof to wait for the quinjet. The rub of lace against his skin was impossible to ignore. Had he always shifted this much while he waited for the elevator? Each brush of the stitching, pulling at different parts of him, making it so he could hardly focus on anything but the steady rush of sensation. He’d never realized how much protection his boxer briefs provided from the elements until he leaned against the elevator wall. The cool metal seeped through his thin cotton pants even as the rest of him heated with anticipation.

The elevator doors opened onto the rooftop, and the large space seemed emptier without the quinjet parked off to the side. He walked to the other end of the rooftop, where benches lined against the wall under an overhang, and waited.

There was a sense of calm in waiting; he listened to the wind and watched the clouds, let the presence of the collar around his neck, and the task Tony had given him, be all that there was to be.

He heard the roar of the quinjet’s engines before he saw it, and the sound alone accelerated his pulse. He shifted again, a gasp escaping his lips when the lace pushed back against the pressure growing in his cock. The plane lowered, angling its landing so he could see Tony piloting.

Tony was showing off, because he knew Steve would be waiting. He had his sunglasses on, but his smile was enough to stoke the fire that heated Steve’s cock inside the lace. Tony knew, and with every shift on the bench, it was like Tony could see, even through his pajama pants.

After a graceful landing, Steve stood while Tony disembarked. He looked glorious in a black leather jacket and dark denim, a hint of the arc reactor peaking out from the top of his dress shirt. His eyes were dark as he walked towards Steve and when he got close, the first thing he did was reach up and push the hood off Steve’s head, tracing his fingers over the collar.

“JARVIS, lock the rooftop door,” Tony ordered, eyes fixed on Steve’s neck.

“Of course, Sir.”

“Welcome home,” Steve whispered into the silence that followed.

“And what a welcome it is.” Tony dropped his hands from Steve’s neck and took a small step back. “Take off your pants.” A jolt of surprise followed the order, desire laced with humiliation, until Tony cleared his throat.

“If I have to repeat myself, I’ll make you take off the hoodie too, even though I think it’s a bit too chilly up here. Your nipples will harden prettily in the cold, though, so I’ll more than enjoy it—Ah, there you go,” he said, once Steve pushed down his pajama pants. “Good boy.”

Steve knew his face was red, but every part of him stayed floating under Tony’s control because Tony said this was good, that he was good. This silly idea of Steve’s, it made Tony’s cock press against his denim in a way that looked almost painful. Steve kept his arms to his side, because Tony wanted to see.

“Oh, Steve, look at you. So pretty for me. All wrapped up.” Steve’s cock reached up to bask in Tony’s praise, leaving little beads of precome at the tip that soaked the lace against his skin. “Is it everything you thought, when you first saw them in that catalogue?”

Steve chewed at his lip. “It started before the catalogue, at the department store.”

Tony’s brow furrowed, confused for a second, before he crowded Steve back against the wall, kissing down Steve’s jaw. “Oh there was a department store adventure. Tell me.”

Steve’s cheeks heated at the order. “I was just checking out and—Red and gold. Women’s section.” Steve shrugged. “I saw a pair and thought of you.” Steve could feel his face flush but he wanted to tell Tony, explain how he had gotten here, why he had taken the catalogue from the store at all. “I thought about how I would look for you, how much you’d like them. And I-I also thought about having them, the red and gold, your colors, hidden under my clothes, wrapped around me.” He swallowed. “Around my cock and - and my ass.”

Tony took his sunglasses off, pupils blown even as he chuckled, his hand coming up to caress Steve’s cheek. “My pretty, pretty, Steve. There is no way I’m not buying those for you now, as well. Especially knowing how good these look on you.” Tony’s hand left his face and landed on his hip, rubbing circles into the fabric. “So sexy, so—” he leaned so his lips brushed Steve’s earlobe. “—obedient. Turn around and put your hands on the wall, I want to see that lace stretch over your ass, I bet that will be a pretty sight too, just like everything else.”

He punctuated his order by gripping Steve's cock, then he used the distraction of Steve’s moan to spin him towards the wall. A smack hit Steve’s ass before he could even brace his hands on the bricks.

“That’s it,” Tony said, his hand tracing over the fabric where it pulled tight across his ass, his finger pushing between his crack until Steve cried out. “Reach down and push them down for me, just a bit, just enough for me to see your hole.”

Steve braced his weight on his arm and reached behind, doing as he was told, wanting Tony’s hands on him again, wanting him to touch his cock where it pressed and pulled against the lace.

“So good, I knew you’d be so good for me, I even planned ahead.”

Before Steve could even ask what he was referring to he heard the click of the lube bottle opening. He looked over his shoulder, with the intention of seeing Tony’s cock covered by the lube and his face must’ve shown his disappointment because Tony laughed as he applied the slick to his fingers. “None of that,” Tony chastised. “You’ll get my cock later, you can count on that. But right now I’m going to take care of you.”

Tony gestured to his cock. “That looks awfully painful, and those panties look way too clean. Something that sexy should be a little messy. Don’t you agree?” Tony’s now lubed finger slid over his crack, tracing his hole while Tony’s other hand came up to grip his cock through the lace and rub a steady rhythm.

Steve threw his head back and moaned, back arching as his ass pressed into Tony’s hand, then jerked forward when his other hand twisted to cup at his balls. “Tony, please.” He had no idea what he was begging for but he knew he wanted anything Tony would give him, and his pleas earned him a finger slipping inside his rim. “Yes, yes,” he groaned and knew the sight he made, standing outside in broad daylight, high above the city in just a pair of underwear. Bright, loud, sexy, feminine, underwear. He cock twitched at the image just as Tony slammed his finger into his prostate. Steve saw stars.

“You love this, don’t you? Whining on my hand while your cock soaks through the lace. So good for me, always following my orders because you know it will get you here, whimpering and moaning as I give you what good boys deserve.” His other hand came down hard on Steve’s ass cheek, causing heat and pain to mix into the pleasure. He was already so close to the edge that it only took one, two, three more twists of Tony’s palm against his cock, and Steve was coming through the lace and into Tony’s hand.

Tony huddled in close, his breath sparking a shiver along the base of Steve’s neck. “There you go, just like that, get them all messy for me.” Tony bit at the collar, at Steve’s ear. His hand withdrawing from Steve’s ass and Steve whined at the loss. Tony looked composed, so much so, that if he hadn’t had felt Tony’s erection pressing into the back of his thigh while he fingered him, he would’ve thought Tony unaffected.

Steve rested his forehead against his arm, still braced against the wall, the wind dancing along the heated, bare skin of his ass.

“You did so well, Steve. Looked so good as you came on my hand.” Steve’s head rolled to hang between his arms and he groaned when Tony pulled the lace bottom, brushing it along his ass before settling it against his waist. “There’s my good Steve. Pull your pants back up and follow me.”

“Where are we going?” Steve asked, though it didn’t really matter, he was blissed out, lax from his orgasm and Tony’s endless string of delicious commands. He looked down at his legs, bare and pale, a stark contrast against the blue fabric. A wet spot darkened the color across the front and he could see glimpses of his softened cock underneath. The lace rubbed his orgasm into his skin with every little motion he made. He bent down to follow Tony’s order, unable to focus on anything but the damp reminder between his legs.

Putting his pajama pants back over it all was a rush of its own, a secret that only he and Tony knew. The knowing smile, when he met Tony’s gaze, only served to solidify Steve’s love of this clandestine sort of debauchery.

“Well, for starters, I’m going to go wash my hand. And then we’re going to go to the common floor and greet the team.”  Tony’s eyes flickered to Steve crotch then back to his face. “Ready?”

“Yes, Tony”

Chapter Text

It would be wrong to wake Tony up.

He had already been horribly jetlagged from SI travel when the Assemble had gone out and, unsurprisingly, he’d collapsed into bed as soon as they’d returned to the penthouse after the battle. Steve shifted on the sheets, trying not to jostle the gently snoring man beside him.

Steve was unusually keyed up tonight. Normally, he was more than ready for a good night’s sleep after a fight, but this one had ended rather anticlimactically and he had some residual energy to burn off. He had a favourite way to burn off residual energy, but…

It would be wrong to wake Tony up.

He turned gingerly onto his side, facing Tony. Tony lay on his stomach, one hand tucked up under the pillow. The light of the arc reactor was enough that Steve could make out Tony’s eyes, softly shut, and his mouth, slightly open. Steve’s brain helpfully reminded him what that mouth could do, what that wet heat felt like sliding down over his cock. He shifted again. He could go down to the gym, but experience told him it would have little effect on the kind of need that was building in his core. He could wait for Tony to wake up, but that would be hours still, and they might not have much time in the morning.

He could take care of it himself.

His hand snaked down to rest on his cock, and it twitched into the contact, filling. He didn’t stroke, just gripped, as his erection grew. He kept his eyes on Tony, straining to catch the details of his face in the dark. A small, huffed sigh fell from Tony’s parted lips, and Steve’s heart and cock swelled simultaneously.

He wondered what Tony might be dreaming about. Maybe the last time he had Steve tied to the headboard. Maybe the time they couldn’t make it to the bed, and Steve got to suck Tony off against the kitchen counter. Maybe he was dreaming up new ways to drive Steve crazy.

Steve’s hand brushed up over the head of his own cock, and he gasped, willing himself to stay still. He shouldn’t do this in bed next to Tony. He should get up and play one of their movies on his tablet. But he dismissed the thought almost immediately. He couldn’t possibly go watch Tony on screen when he had the real one right here beside him. His hand twisted again, and Steve carefully regulated his breathing, tensing his legs so they wouldn’t twitch. He could feel the heat radiating off the man beside him. He wanted to bury his face in Tony’s chest and breathe in the scent of him and rut against him while Tony whispered filthy things in his ear until he came all over his thigh.

Steve cut off a moan as he picked up the pace with his hand. There was no way he could claim he wasn’t jacking off now. He gripped harder and shifted onto his back, head still turned towards Tony. The movement jostled the mattress a bit, and he held his breath as Tony moved too, curling onto his side. The change shook the arc reactor free of the sheets and suddenly Tony’s beautiful face was bathed in blue light. Steve bit his lip hard between his teeth and kept stroking, wanting to speed up, but unable to for fear of shaking the bed.

The pace was cruelly insufficient, and it was a long time before Steve finally felt a familiar electricity building with every stroke. He wanted to chase the feeling, pump his fist harder, tip his hips up into his touch, but he held back, letting it escalate slowly, squeezing his eyes shut when the torture became too much to bear.

He imagined Tony above him, gazing down at him with eyes full of obey, making him wait, making him slow, keeping his pace even with only a look. It was too much, he was so close, just a little more. He let a tiny groan slip between his lips, he was going to—

A hand snapped around his wrist and Steve startled, eyes flying open and fixing on Tony’s face. Tony’s eyes were bright in the reactor light, fixed sharp and intent on Steve’s face. Tony’s fingers wrapped tight around Steve’s wrist, and humiliation ignited within him. He opened his mouth to explain, apologize, anything but Tony’s hand clenched on his wrist and his hand jerked one more time and Tony’s eyes; it was too much.

“Oh god, Tony,’ he breathed out as his orgasm punched through him. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, couldn’t breathe as he spilled over his fist, dripping onto his thighs and Tony’s hand where it still clenched around his wrist. He was on fire with embarrassment.

All was still for a moment, then Tony’s hand relaxed and slid down to cover Steve’s, twisting once over the head of Steve’s cock and making him gasp. Tony grinned, predatory. “You better be up for another one, you tease.”  

Chapter Text

“Trick or Treat!” A child screamed in front of Steve, a huge grin illuminating his Redwing-painted face. He was dressed from neck to toe as Falcon and Sam had burst out laughing as soon as he saw the kid, high fiving him and giving him four times the candy as everyone else. Which explained the pitch of his screech when he repeated the words, “Trick or Treat!”

“I think he want’s some of your booty, Cap.” Tony knocked his elbow into Steve’s side, then pointed at the big basket of candy in his hands.

Steve rolled his eyes, the bangs of his wig shifting into his eyeline as Tony’s jostled him. He blew air up at them. That’s what he deserved for dressing like a pirate. The costume had been Tony's idea, though, and, as Steve adjusted his tight pants under his red coat, Steve wondered if maybe the genius had played him a bit. He handed the Redwing Falcon a couple of sweets and watched as he ran to the other side of the rooftop.

Stark Industries: Family and Friends Halloween Fundraiser! was in full swing. A group of teenagers had come by last week and constructed an enormous pirate ship out of paper mache. At some point, little jack-o-lantern lights had been strung from one end of the rooftop to the other, a fog machine and a self-contained, haunted cemetery had been added to the corner by the brick wall. The same brick wall Tony had once fucked him against, and Steve blushed every time it caught his eye.

All the Avengers had come up to the rooftop together and took to the small pirate ship stage. The children had gone absolutely insane, cheering so loud that Steve was tempted to cover his ears, like Clint and Sam.

Steve had been uncomfortable leading up to that moment on the stage, pulling at his red coat, shifting in his heeled boots, as they got ready in the penthouse. Even when Tony had slid up next to him while he put the finishing touches on his costume, practically cooing, “Oh Captain, my Captain. Look at that ass I’m a’tappin,” Steve still wasn’t sure.

He’d turned back to the mirror, biting his lip in the face of his own reflection. Dark charcoal covered the hood of his eyes, with a deeper eyeliner circling his eye. “I’m all tarted up.”

Tony had snorted, lifting Steve's three-pointed pirate hat to kiss the base of his neck. “My tarted up, candy treat. Come on, Cap, party a’hoy!”

But once the children were screaming with joy, it made sense to walk across the pirate ship stage and play the part, threatening they’d walk the plank if they didn’t collect some candy treasure. He started to enjoy himself, his self-consciousness fading away.

“Trick or Treat!” A girl dressed as a knight riding a pony stick galloped up to their group. When Steve reached for his basket, the girl shook her head. “I want from the King.”

“Oh is that so?” Tony lifted his chin, crown gleaming in the jack-o-lantern glow.

“You have expensive taste, kid,” Cowboy Clint cut in. “I like it, here have some of my gold for your moxie.”

“Thank you,” the girl said.

“Neeeeeigh,” her horse agreed.

Then, the girl turned back to King Tony. “Your majesty.”

And oh how Tony ate that up, flicking back his velvet, red and gold trimmed cloak, grinning. “Such a wonderful subject of this rooftop realm. Here you are my lady.” He reached into the gold satchel bag that rested on the table next to them and dropped a handful of candy into the knight's pillowcase. Then, for good measure he reached into Steve’s basket and dropped in a few more, winking at the girl. “My pirate peasant,” he whispered conspiratorially at the knight.

“Hey! I’m the Captain, not a peasant.” And they all laughed at Steve’s indignation before the knight galloped away.

“This is fun.” Clint brought his arm to Tony shoulder, shaking it a bit as his other hand went into Tony’s candy bag. Steve wondered if anyone else had noticed the light in Tony’s eyes all evening, not from the jack-o-lanterns, but from bringing everyone together, creating a place where they could be silly for a while, dress up and eat candy and celebrate Halloween.

Steve nodded, agreeing with Clint. “It’s a shame the kids are leaving so soon.”

“Trick or Treat!” The cheers interrupted their conversation, and they all quieted until the scream-candy exchange was complete.

“The party won’t be ending then, though,” Tony said, fixing his golden crown so it lay tilted on his head, and Steve thought he looked gorgeous, draped in finery from who knows where, leather breeches and a billowing shirt, topped off with the opulent coat and crown.

Steve knew he’d been blatantly admiring Tony just from the way Clint was snickering in their direction, and that’s when Tony's words caught up with him. “What?” he asked, purposely ignoring Cowboy Clint who was now waving his lasso in his and Tony’s general direction. “I thought Halloween was for children?”

That made Clint flick the whip and bark out a laugh. “Oh, Captain.”

“My Captain,” Tony said under his breath, but Clint continued talking right over him.

“Back in the 1940s, Halloween may have been just for children, but it is a full-fledged party for both children and adults these days. Tony got a band.”

“Yup. And we’re going to dance, King’s orders.”

“You don’t have to order me to dance with you.”

“No, but you like it better that way.”

Steve blushed.

“Gross,” Clint announced around a caramel cube.

“Says the cowboy chewing candy like a cow,” Tony shot back and Clint snorted once before backing away with his fist up, looking like he wanted to flick Tony off and barely remembered there were children around him in time.

Tony turned to Steve. He always managed to pin him with a single stare, an expression he’d seen countless times in private. And sometimes in public, because Tony enjoyed seeing him squirm. It made Steve want to approach his king, fall to his knees and offer himself up. But he couldn’t. Not here, not now.

Instead he met Tony’s gaze and said, “Trick or Treat,” voice pitched low and with a look he hoped was as hot as Tony’s. It seemed to have an effect because his grin turned lascivious, and he brushed against Steve as he reached for his gold bag of candy, and held it out to Steve.

Steve reached his hand into the bag, and tried not to think about how close he was to Tony’s crotch, how he could easily press the bag into the his breeches and no one would know. He caught a piece of candy and pulled his hand out quickly, shaking away the thought as he stepped back and gave Tony a small smile as he held up the candy.

It was like Tony knew his thoughts. “You got your treat.” Tony licked his lips. “But I’m a king tonight, so why should I have to choose between trick or treat? No. We’ll have our trick too, by the end of the night.”

A smirk and a shoulder squeeze, then Tony left him stunned to announce the last event of the kids party.

He hadn’t forgotten about the exchange in the slightest, by the time they made it to their bedroom, Steve’s coat shedded and shirt long gone, straddling Tony in nothing but a pair of black pants. Tony still had the crown on his head, and the sight of it kept causing Steve’s breath to catch. It added a twist to every order Tony gave him, a command that he couldn’t deny his king.

“Every time you stare at the crown, my cock twitches,” Tony informed him, hands running up and down his back.

“It’s just…” Steve blushed, looking towards the box where they kept his collar on the nightstand, and Tony followed his gaze, pulling his collar out and secured it around Steve’s neck while he found his words. “It’s like the collar. A visible display of, you know...of your authority and it’s, well. It’s hot.”

Tony responded with a wide grin, but Steve didn’t get to see it for long because Tony’s lips were on his, rough and biting, pulling Steve apart. Steve surged into him, opening up for Tony and going lax in his arms.

“You’re so filthy,” Tony whispered against his lips. “The things you think of, what you find hot. Fuck-- Get your cock out, I want to make you all wet for me.”

Steve shuffled back on Tony’s legs, pushing his pants off then settling back on Tony's breeches as quickly as he could, Tony’s need spurring him on. He loved when he was naked on Tony’s lap, even moreso when the other man was fully clothed and the only thing Steve had on was his collar.

“Look at you.” Tony rubbed the precome beading on the tip into the head of his cock. “Red and swollen already. My little treat .” It was the word that reminded Steve, the emphasis Tony added that made him tense. “Ah yes, you remember.” Tony stretched forward, reaching past Steve to pull something out from under the blanket they’d kept on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.

In Tony’s hand was a phallic cage made of overlapping red, leather strips. Gold fastenings binded the leather strips together. Tony was already sliding it over Steve’s erection when he found his breath. “What’s that?” Steve asked in a puff of breath but he already knew. A strap fastened around Steve’s balls and Tony’s hands fell away.

“Stand,” Tony ordered.

Steve shuffled back, feet coming to rest on the carpet and hands falling to his side so Tony could see. Tony had pulled out his own cock, was stroking lazily as he looked at Steve. “I have a few of these lovely cages. Some so restricting that you couldn’t even get hard without my say-so. This one though,” Tony said, hand coming up to squeeze him through the leather. “This one lets you get hard, because I’m a merciful king. Aren’t I?”

Steve gasped, nodding. “Yes, Tony.”

“Good. My little treat, so beautiful when you’re hard. And you’ll stay hard until I say-so. What do you say?”

Steve was floating, held suspended by Tony’s attention and the pressure of the vice on his cock. He wanted to come, to feel the sweet relief. But he also felt like an offering to Tony, a Halloween gift for him to do with what he pleased. Through the fog, he remembered, Tony had asked him a question. “Trick or treat?” Steve guessed an answer, teeth toying with his lip.

“See? So good. Now get back on this bed so I can come all over your abs.”

Steve moaned, cock jutting out, encased in the leather and unable to twitch like it wanted. Tony reached out and rubbed at his tight balls, chuckling when Steve hissed. Then his grip closed, and he tugged him forward by his hold. ”Just like that, come to me.” Steve lifted one knee onto the bed, then to other, turning to lay down as Tony moved to kneel next to him, light catching on the golden crown that still rested on his head.

Steve lay on his back, arms folded under his head; he felt on display and confined at the same time.

Tony wrapped a hand around his own cock again, stroking, and Steve’s wanted to twitch again, tried to against the confines. “Look at you, trussed up for me. You’re hot-- hot every night, but tonight with that charcoal around your eyes. God your eyes, so blue. Yes, watch me Steve. I’m so close.” He shifted on the bed, closer to Steve’s face, the hand not on his own cock gripping Steve's aching cock possessively.

“Open up for me,” Tony said, voice rough and Steve’s mouth fell open, lifting onto his elbows, mouth watering as he waited for Tony's come. The leather bit into Steve’s skin where Tony’s fingers grabbed him tighter. “Stick out your tongue, get ready for your treat.”

Steve hardly had time to do as he was told, before hot strips of come landed on his tongue, across his lips, falling onto his chin. Steve closed his eyes and moaned, savoring the taste of Tony as the need in his cock swelled.

Tony fell to the side, his head rested next to Steve, his hand falling away from the cage around Steve’s cock. It loosened, just a bit, and Steve groaned, hips thrusting into nothing but unforgiving leather. He turned to Tony, who was smiling at him, lax and satiated. The expression sent a warmth through Steve’s body mixing with his arousal, leaving him feeling buzzed and floating and whatever Tony wanted him to be.

“I want to leave you in that cage all night,” Tony whispered across their pillows. “Then, in the morning I’ll take it off and you’ll come harder than I've made you in some time.”

Steve’s whole body tensed, shuddered then floated, the cage holding him, Tony's arms coming around him to do the same. His erection persisted between them, and Steve now knew it wouldn't be going anywhere soon. But still he nodded to Tony, because being good for him was better than any orgasm.

Tony smiled and closed the space between them with a chaste kiss, then pulled back and brought his lips to Steve's ear. “I’ll let you decide whether it's a trick, or a treat.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, darling, can you give me a hand for a second?”

Steve looked up from his tablet in surprise. He was sure Tony had forgotten he was there, if he’d even noticed him coming down in the first place. Tony had been completely absorbed in his work for several hours now, moving repeatedly from his chair in front of a bank of screens, to an area of the workshop he’d cleared, and back again. Recognizing that Tony was in the zone, but still wanting to be near him, Steve had quietly tucked himself onto the couch with his own work. To be fair, it was entirely possible that Tony didn’t actually know Steve was here, and was asking on the off chance he was. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done something like that.

“Of course.”

Tony didn’t reply, his eyes glued to a computer screen where he was rapidly scrolling through endless lines of code, the cap of a pen lodged between his teeth. Steve rose and crossed the room to stand by Tony’s chair.

It was a solid two minutes before Tony said, “Huh?” and turned towards him.

“You asked for my help,” Steve reminded him, grinning now. Tony in engineering mode should have been annoying but was actually adorable. The whole rest of the world disappeared and his entire focus was on his work. Steve also knew what it was like to have that laser-focus entirely on him and the back of his neck heated at the thought.

“Oh yeah.” Tony typed vigorously for a moment. “Could you stand…” he waved his hand towards the area where he’d been constructing something.

“Tony.”

“Mmm.”

“I need a little more than that.”

Tony finally hit the end of the code and something in him snapped back to the here and now. He turned, met Steve’s eyes, and smiled. “Hey, you. I need you to help me with something.”

Steve laughed. “Okay.”

“You’re the best.” Even the casual praise set Steve’s mind humming with pleasure. Tony stood and led Steve over to his project. “Okay. Remember how I was working on those bio scanners for the suit—improving them beyond basic ‘yes I’m alive’ stats? Well, the hard part isn’t the actual scanners, that’s just miniaturization. It’s coding the results. I’ve been working on it, but I need to do some live tests so I need you to stand right here—" Tony maneuvered Steve in the middle of a circle surrounded by what appeared to be tall stacks of thin speakers “—and don’t move until I tell you to.”

It was a command, but it lacked any bite or edge. Tony clearly wasn’t thinking about sex, or even about Steve, really. It could have been anyone standing there. But Steve was thinking about Tony, and it took all his strength not to shuffle where he stood, tingling heat working its way up his spine.

“Okay, good.” Tony sat back down at his desk and started typing. Steve stood, his gaze fixed on Tony’s face, watching his dark eyes dart back and forth across the screen. Tony started muttering, “O2: 97. Respiration rate is—uh—seven. Hmm...pulse—three million beats per minute, that can’t be right…” Tony looked over towards the scanners then raked his gaze down Steve’s body. It was the opposite of heated; his eyes were cool, clinical, detached, but Steve ignited under them. Tony grumbled at the screens for a moment, called a few things out to JARVIS, then pushed his chair back. He crossed the room, poked one of the speaker-things then stood beside Steve. “Baseline the old-fashioned way, I guess.” He took Steve’s wrist between his thumb and two fingers and dropped his eyes to his watch, counting.

Tony was barely touching him, wasn’t thinking about him. Steve could see the gears ticking inside his brain; he was entirely absorbed with diagnosing the problems with his code. But Steve was burning up, frantic, every nerve in his body tuned to the two spots on his wrist where he was connected to Tony. He could feel the blood pumping through his veins, tapping against Tony’s fingertips with every throb. He swallowed hard when Tony muttered “98 bpm,” to himself and dropped his wrist.

After rummaging in a bin by the desk for a moment, Tony came up with a blood pressure cuff which he slid up Steve’s arm, tightening it around his bicep. Tony held the controller for the cuff in one hand and leaned back to type on his keyboard with the other, stretched across the room. He pushed the button to inflate the cuff, eyes flicking back and forth between the controller screen, and the computer screen, muttering to himself all the while.

The cuff expanded with a low hum, squeezing Steve’s arm and sending his blood pressure skyrocketing as it attempted to fill his cock and keep him alive at the same time. The ever-increasing pressure from the cuff reminded Steve of Tony’s reinforced bonds, or the way his hands tightened around Steve’s biceps while he held him face down on the bed. It was a heady sensation, dizzying, and Steve worried for a moment that he wouldn’t be able to keep standing.

“I think it’s the looping calibration getting stuck again,” Tony said to no one, looking out blankly at the mess of scanners, then placed a flat palm over Steve’s chest. Steve stared at it. They were both silent for a moment, then Tony slowly turned his head until his eyes fixed on Steve. “You’re not breathing.”

Steve sucked in a sharp breath and the pain he hadn’t noticed building in his lungs released. Tony cocked an eyebrow, but something beeped on his computer, and he dropped his hand and hustled over to it. Steve took the time to rediscover oxygen and try to figure out what on earth was going on. He was just a body to Tony right now, a mannequin whose only job was to breathe and blink on his machines, and it was giving him a thrill, as if he was on display, stood still and dissected, broken down into his component parts. A wrist, a pulse, two lungs which may or may not be functioning properly, nothing more.

Tony’s eyes kept flicking from the screens to Steve with such a clinical, singular focus that he had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from begging - begging for what, he didn’t know. He didn’t feel like Steve, he felt like one of Tony’s projects, a bot built for help around the workshop or maybe for something else... He imagined Tony calling him over while he worked, fucking his mouth with no regard for Steve’s arousal, dismissing him when he was done. It was humiliating and exhilarating at the same time.

“What are you thinking about?” Tony asked, startling Steve out of his filthy fantasy. He struggled to come up with a response, and when he didn’t answer, Tony started speaking again, “Your respiration just went up to fourteen and your pulse is at 105. Tell me what you’re thinking about.” His voice was even, low, calm, without the heat he usually poured into his commands, and Steve felt off-kilter and unsteady, like it wasn’t really Tony asking him, it was some stranger.

“I—um,” he stuttered, and usually Tony would push him through his hesitation, but his eyes stayed fixed on his screen.

“Take off your pants,” Tony told him, voice still bland and disinterested.

Steve hung for a moment, caught in aroused confusion, then dropped his hands to his zipper and stripped his pants off. Tony looked at him, looked at the screen, looked at him, frowned, then sighed. He got up, and Steve thought he was coming over to touch him again, but he merely adjusted one of the scanners and sat down again.

“Don’t tell me you can’t register heat changes,” Tony told the screen. “I can see you registering heat changes. Take off the rest of your clothes.”

It was so abrupt, Steve didn’t realize at first that the order was meant for him. When it clicked in, he scrambled to shed the rest of his clothes and tossed them aside. He stood, bare naked, his cock half hard from his dirty thought, hands at his sides, cheeks on fire. Tony’s eyes brushed over him again, with no leer, no smirk, no pause on his growing erection, and Steve couldn’t hold back the little squeak of overwhelmed desperation that slipped through his lips.

“Put your hand on your cock. I need to see your readings change.”

Steve was sure the command alone had sent his heart rate into orbit, he was nowhere near breathing properly, and the fact that every ounce of blood in his body was currently fighting for its chance to flood to his dick meant his body temperature must be going wild. As Tony stared at the output, Steve wondered if his eyes were following the heat that was growing in his groin, if Tony could see his arousal increasing through the lens of science. Steve dropped his hand to his cock and started to stroke with a soft sigh.

For a long stretch, all he could hear was Tony’s fingers clacking on the keyboard and the man’s occasional sighs and humphs when it wasn’t going right. “Speed up,” Tony said, finally breaking the silence, and Steve moved his hand faster, moaning at the sensation. Electric pleasure sparked under his skin, crackling every time Tony’s detached, scientific gaze washed over him.

“Every time you twist your palm over the head of your cock, your pulse increases by three beats per minute,” Tony announced. Steve twisted his palm, and his legs started to shake. “Your O2 is dropping, take a deep breath.” Steve sucked air in through his teeth and the prickling in his lungs receded. “That’s good, perfect,” Tony said, and he was speaking to the program, but Steve felt it settle hot in his chest and vibrate up his neck to his cheeks. “You can come.”

Steve came almost instantly at Tony’s words. His orgasm burst low in his gut like a firework, sparks ricocheting their way down his legs and up his spine. He stumbled and fought to keep upright in the circle of scanners. He wondered if Tony saw him come on his screens, the same way he felt it, radiating pleasure, radiating heat. The rush of his heart, the harsh catch of his lungs. He groaned, wobbled, and then strong arms were catching him, holding him upright. Tony’s clothes brushed against his hypersensitive, bare skin, and he shivered.

He brought his eyes up to find the face of the man that held him and it was Tony again, all Tony, all focused on Steve. “You were so good,” Tony cooed, brushing Steve’s hair back with his fingers. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Tony settled over Steve’s lap, straddling his thighs and leaning close to his face. He slipped a hand over Steve’s mouth and grinned when the man under him startled awake, eyes going wide.

“Good morning, darling.”

Steve’s eyes shifted from surprise to fire, reflecting the heat Tony knew was burning in his own. He felt Steve’s cock twitch to life against his thigh, and he took a steadying breath. God, Steve was so responsive, it was exhilarating.

“Are you listening?” Tony asked, low and sultry. Steve nodded. Tony reached over to their bedside table and grabbed Steve’s collar. He held it up in front of Steve’s eyes and got another nod. Without releasing Steve’s mouth, Tony worked the end of the collar under his neck and clasped it, one-handed. Steve shifted a little under him, pushing his hard cock up against Tony’s groin, and swallowing as the collar rubbed against his throat. Tony traced the edge of leather with his finger. “I’m going to take my hand away and you’re going to say one thing. One wish, one command, one request—no more than a few words—that’s all you get: one thing. You can make it whatever you want, but until I take this off, you don't get to say anything else, no matter what I do, unless it’s your safeword. Got it?”

Steve nodded, eyes going impossibly wider.

Tony leaned forward and pressed his lips against Steve’s ear, letting them brush his skin lightly enough to tickle. “I recommend you choose ‘harder,’ or ‘faster,’ or ‘fuck me,’ or ‘yes, Tony’ because I’m going to fuck you into the mattress until you can’t remember your own name, and if you don’t pick the right thing, you won’t be able to tell me what you want. I might stop before you’re done and leave you desperate and aching all day with no way to ask for relief.” Steve moaned, the vibration running down Tony’s arm. He sat back again and looked down at Steve, giving him a few breaths to think, hoping his mind was a frantic race of filthy thoughts. “One thing.” Tony pulled his hand away.

Steve took a shaky breath, his eyes never leaving Tony’s; he looked more than a little stunned. He opened his mouth, and Tony held up one finger, a reminder. Steve swallowed hard.

“I love you.” It was barely a whisper.

It was Tony’s turn to stare, stunned. “Are you kidding me? That’s what you choose?”

Steve bit his lip and squirmed between Tony’s legs, begging with his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered again, each word dripping with desperation.

“Holy shit.” Tony dropped down with a fist braced on either side of Steve’s face, then pushed him into the pillow with a rough kiss. “Only you could make that the filthiest possible thing you could choose. Steve Rogers, you’ll be the death of me.” Tony felt like the world had skipped a beat. He had this torturous, sexy game planned, and Steve had screeched him to a halt with three words. He took a sharp breath and rocked back on his heels, dragging his hands down Steve’s bare chest as he moved. The ridges of perfect muscles under his palms brought his mind back into sharp focus.

Tony tucked his fingertips into the waistband of Steve’s sleep pants and worked them over his hips, then right off, and tossed them to the floor. He dropped his own boxers too, leaving them both naked, then hopped back up onto Steve’s lap. “So, darling, what do you want?”

Steve huffed out a tight half-breath and arched up. His cock left a wet streak on the inside of Tony’s thigh. “I love you,” Steve choked out.

Tony rolled his hips teasingly slowly, brushing ever so lightly against Steve. “Like this?” he asked, lacing every word with heat and grinning when Steve pouted in frustration.

Steve dug his fingertips into Tony’s thighs. “Nuh,” he whimpered, and Tony stilled, raising an eyebrow. “I…love you,” Steve growled.

Tony slowly worked his way back, tracing his fingers over Steve’s skin as he moved, hardly letting them kiss Steve’s flushed inner thigh. He dropped his hand to Steve’s balls, cupping and tugging them until Steve was thrusting against his hand. Steve gasped, broken syllables cutting off before words could form. “I—I love you,” Steve moaned.

“Yeah, yeah you do.” Tony smirked before dropping his head and sucking Steve’s cock down whole. A spurt of his precome hit Tony’s tongue, and he hummed from deep in his throat. It vibrated around Steve’s cock, and the man was reduced to a string of, “I love you,” instead of his usual litany of, “Tony, yes. Tony, just like that.”

And then Tony pulled off with a pop, just as quickly as he had sucked down, and leaned back on his heels to watch Steve squirm and thrust into nothing but air. “I love you. I love you, I love you. Ple—”

Tony leaned back down over Steve, one elbow on either side of his head and bent down to cut his words off with a kiss. He pulled back just as Steve tried to surge up into the kiss and brought his lips to Steve’s ear. “You love me. You're mine. So pretty when you beg, prettier still when you give me what I want. And what do I want?”

“You. I love. T—You. I love you.” Tony reached down, gripping Steve’s cock in his hand, and he knew it wouldn’t take long. Steve was panting, hissing, screaming, “I love you,” and he was beautiful, twisting in the sheets and doing exactly as he was told.

Tony settled into a steady rhythm around Steve’s cock, knowing he wouldn’t last long, watching as Steve’s eyes scrunched tight and his lips parted with each gasping breath. “I’m going to flip you over and fuck you, but only after you come in my hand. No need for your cock to mess up the sheets.”

Steve moaned and nodded before choking out, “I love you,” again.

Tony felt a surge of arousal, a bead of precome forming along the head of his cock; he wanted Steve now. He was sprawled out like an offering for him, each word a benediction, an affirmation, and it made Tony grip too hard, or maybe exactly hard enough, because Steve gasped and spilled into Tony’s hand, his cock twitching in Tony’s fist.

Steve took one whole breath to recuperate before he flipped onto his stomach and raised his ass into the air. “I love you,” he begged, and Tony hummed with satisfaction, as he reached out to rest his come-slick hand at the base of Steve’s spine. Steve arched his back and cried, “I love you. I love you.”

Tony’s gaze traced the arch of his back, the curve of his ass, and his other hand came up to cup and squeeze one cheek. He spread it until he could see Steve’s hole then blew lightly onto the puckered skin.

“I love you,” Steve gasped. Tony bit his lip, wishing that he had thought to plug Steve up the night before, so that all he had to do was pull out the toy and slide back in, but instead he reached for the lube with one hand as his other teased at the rim of Steve’s hole. And maybe the wait wasn’t so bad after all, because a steady stream of Steve’s I love you’s danced around the room with every press of his fingers, every twist and thrust and stretch.

The hot catch of Steve’s hole against the head of Tony’s cock never failed to steal his breath. The tightness as he slid in always felt new, mirrored by the squeeze of leather and vibranium as he slid his hand between the collar and Steve’s throat.

“I love you,” Tony whispered, when Steve could only moan wordlessly as he pushed inside. Tony pulled back and thrust forward, slow and deep, and Steve echoed his words. And it didn’t matter that Steve couldn’t ask for what he wanted. Tony knew what to give him, how to show him he was loved. He rocked in, as deep as he could, stretching Steve around him, then pulled back, fingers clenching around Steve’s hips. Tony breathed with the steady rhythm of his thrusts, willing himself to keep them even, long, and slow, even as the desperate pleasure wound tighter and tighter in his gut.

Steve slurred out another, “I love you,” and Tony groaned, his balls pressing close to the base of his cock now. He was so close.

“I love you,” they said, in unison this time, their words tangling together in the small space between them.  “I love you, I love you. I—” Tony bucked forward, as Steve arched his back and screamed the words. Or maybe Tony did. It hardly mattered because he was coming into Steve, hard and hot, while under him Steve shook with the tremors of his second orgasm.

Tony collapsed over Steve’s back, his chest heaving. Steve shifted gently until they were chest to chest, his arms coming up to wrap around Tony’s waist. Soft kisses were pressed to Tony’s jawbone, while he recovered his breath. Tony slipped his fingers around the leather of Steve’s collar and gripped for a moment then popped the clasp, letting it slide off and fall to the mattress.

Steve’s hands ran up and down Tony’s spine, soft and soothing. His lips brushed the curve of Tony’s ear in the barest kiss. “I love you.”

Chapter Text

The sun had been up for hours, and Tony for even longer. The warm coffee mug someone had placed between his hands, and Steve’s laughter next to him were all that tethered him to consciousness. He needed a bed, and soon, but Steve would be called away to SHIELD any minute, and he wanted to make use of the time they had together.

The cause of Steve’s laughter was probably Clint, because Nat was not the one juggling pastries. That, at least, had penetrated his exhaustion.

Steve’s attention turned towards the elevator doors, and Tony only noticed because the movement jostled his head where it rested on Steve’s shoulder. There were greetings exchanged, words more terse than usual but Tony was too tired to dwell on it. After a moment, Bruce’s familiar hand entered his line of vision, dropping a newspaper on the counter in front of them. A thud, and silence followed.

Under his cheek, Steve tensed, and Tony sat up to see Clint’s narrowed eyes glaring, Nat’s face blank, and Bruce’s eyes tinted with concern.

“This today’s front page?” Steve’s voice was grave, his arm coming around to circle Tony’s waist, and suddenly, Tony was very much awake. On the cover was a photo of the two of them. The same shot could’ve been taken at countless restaurants, but instead it was taken at their favorite Italian place, and didn’t that just add extra salt to the wound?

It wasn’t taken by anyone inside the restaurant, but by paparazzi from outside, getting the perfect, private, moment of Steve blushing as Tony lifted Steve’s hand to press a kiss against his knuckles. The headline was in bold letters, Iron Man and Captain America: More Than Just Teammates?

His stomach dropped. Tony was used to having every aspect of his life paraded around, but by now it was little more than a minor annoyance for him, and a source of regular potential heart attacks for his PR manager. For Steve though… He looked up and saw Steve’s face turn beet red. They hadn’t been a secret. They never tried to keep the romantic aspect of their relationship private. It had only been a matter of time; even if they never made a public statement. Tony had thought about a press release before, but things had been so peaceful and really, it wasn’t anyone else’s fucking business. The only people affected were him and Steve and their team, no one else. But there was no way Steve wouldn’t be affected by this, to be splashed across the headlines, for their private life to be used as other people’s entertainment news. And now he was tied to Tony, to his string of liaisons, to his past mistakes and future mishaps. Would the world see Steve as just another fling? How would Steve react if they inevitably did?

His lethargic morning was taking a turn with every uncomfortable shift Steve made next to him. “Stupid paparazzi.” Tony wanted to clench his fist in the newspaper. “Aliens are falling from the sky, Hydra is having a twenty-first century resurgence, and these clowns spend their time taking grainy, half-blurred, stalker photos of Steve and me at Osteria Al Volo. They even got Steve’s breadsticks in the shot. Steve loves those breadsticks.”

“Tony,” Steve cut in, the color in his cheeks probably sheepishness now, more than anger.

Clint snorted. “I don’t want to know what that’s all about.” He waved his hand over the photographed breadsticks. “Just tell me which journalist to tail.”

Steve shook his head, even as Tony took a picture of the name with his phone and messaged it to Clint. Nat came over from her spot by the coffee maker to take in the photo, eyes narrowing for a moment, then she shrugged. “It wasn’t much of a secret and absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Nice to see you in the press with your clothes on, Tony.”

Before he could reply with a suitably genius quip, Steve’s phone rang. Tony’s breath caught, was someone calling Steve about the newspaper? A surge of adrenaline followed as Tony met Steve’s gaze. He’d slipped into Captain mode, listening to the person on the other end of the line. Steve’s brow creased, and Tony wondered if the other person was berating him about the article. But then Steve mouthed, “What’s wrong?” at Tony, and he realized that the phone call had nothing to do with the news.

He shook his head and rested back against Steve’s side while he listened to his side of the call. He searched for any underlying embarrassment or anger about the article breaking through his clear, strong voice. Steve valued his privacy and had a much higher expectation of it than Tony. He wanted to do what he could to reassure the man so he leaned up to his ear, where only Steve could hear, to answer his question. “Nothing’s wrong, if you’re okay.” He was close enough to bite playfully at Steve’s ear, even as their teammates groaned. It was worth it for the way Steve smirked and stuttered his reply on the phone.

When the call eventually ended, Tony knew by the way Steve took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders that it was time for him to leave for the day. The article seemed forgotten for the moment.

Steve insisted on escorting Tony the penthouse, even though he had zero intention of returning to the workshop. In their bedroom, Tony let him pull back their sheets, even fluff Tony’s pillow, before stepping back so Tony could slide into their bed. Before Steve pulled away, Tony encircled his wrist and pulled him in for a searing kiss. He may have mumbled the word, “mine,” once or twice, but he was asleep before he heard Steve leave the room.

When he woke up, he was alone in their apartment, and he wandered idly to the kitchen for some coffee. He stopped short in the doorway because someone had delivered a different newspaper, with the same “breaking news,” to the penthouse. It sat on the coffee table like a beacon with the headline: Tony Stark’s Latest Conquest: America.

It was accompanied by a photo from Halloween - Steve leaning in to tilt Tony’s costume-crown on his head. His mind scanned his memory of the party, trying to remember any unfamiliar face wearing that familiar expression of dark greed. He’d been too distracted by the party, by Steve, by the false sense of security that no one would sell a photo they took in his own home.

He wrapped his robe tighter around his waist and came around the couch, throwing himself onto the cushions and running a hand through his hair. There were probably more photos inside the pages, he imagined a full page spread. Probably taking bets on how quickly Tony could fuck this up. The best relationship he’d ever had, and no celebrity “journalist” would bet on him to make it last.

Steve was probably finishing up at SHIELD, another long shift of rooting out Hydra operatives from its ranks. He wondered if anyone was giving him a hard time. At least Rumlow and his goons were in the wind, but he could still see Agent Gardner sidle up to him with an obnoxious comment. Coulson was probably blushing at him nonstop from the start of his day to the end of it. Tony groaned and wished JARVIS was equipped to bring him coffee.

He let his body tilt onto the couch so he was laying on his side. Steve’s newspaper-print face was staring at him, grinning. When he closed his eyes the smile turned uncertain, Steve biting his lip, brow furrowed. Unsure, unsettled.

The elevator door chimed, but he didn’t want to open his eyes. He knew it was Steve and he knew the man could’ve spent the whole day trying to find ways to tell Tony that this was all too much, too open, that they were too much on display.

He heard whistling, happy humming, and then a hand reached over the back of the couch to tussle his hair. Tony tensed, then peeked open an eye. Steve was smiling.

“Hey honey, I’m home.” Steve sang, a teasing glint in his eye. Tony tentatively lifted from the couch.

“You’re...happy?”

“Yes.” Steve’s smile faltered for a moment. “It’s been a good day.”

“It has?”

“Yes…?”

Tony gestured at the newspaper. “You sure?”

“Tony, what’s going on?” Steve asked from the other side of the couch. “I thought you were fine with the article. I thought—”

“I am!” Tony sat up, shaking off his sleep and walking around to wrap his arms around Steve’s waist. “I thought maybe, at SHIELD or on the street that people would…”

“That people would what? Know? Say something? I’m happy everyone knows! Three people asked me how you were doing, and wished us good luck.” Steve’s eyes were wide with excitement, his words coming out in a rush. “Now people know who we are to one another, how much you mean to me. It’s, well, if I could scream from the rooftops that I was yours, I would.”

Tony felt his cheeks flush, imagining Steve wearing his collar as he shouted those words. “Well technically you can. We have a rooftop, one you are intimately familiar with.” Steve’s eyes darkened, and his gaze dropped to Tony’s mouth.

Tony felt everything slide into place, fears swept away at the sight of Steve’s eagerness. He ran a hand up his chest, still clad in his SHIELD uniform, tight and black and calling for Tony to rip it off. “I have a better idea than the rooftop, though.” He turned Steve around so that he faced the floor to ceiling windows, and walked them so that they could see the city alive below. Blood rushed through Tony’s veins, because he’d always wanted to do this, show Steve off for the world to see.

Standing behind him, Tony slid his hands over his chest, up and down his back to land on the zipper of his SHIELD tac suit. He lowered it down bit by bit until Steve was standing in front of the window shirtless, then he pushed it over his hips. “No underwear?” Tony teased.

“No—You know there’s not enough room.” Steve swallowed.

“And I love it every time.” Tony bent down to the ground, pulling one foot out of the suit and then the other, until he sat back on his heels and looked up his naked body, Steve’s flush had overtaken his neck, falling over his shoulders and chest. Tony rose as he traced his hands up Steve’s calves, hips, waist, before resting proprietarily over his chest. “Now everyone can see,” Tony whispered in his ear. “Everyone can see that you’re mine. Everyone knows, everyone in the world, that you belong in my bed, by my side, kneeling by my heel.” Steve gasped and rolled his head onto Tony’s shoulder. Tony pressed his lips against his ear. “Kneel.”

Steve fell to his knees still facing the window. His head falling to the side and resting on Tony’s hip. “Good boy.” He took a moment to run his hands through the strands of Steve’s soft hair, then he pushed down his sweatpants and traced the head of his cock over Steve’s lips. “Now, show the world how good you are.”

Chapter Text

Chapter One

Everything stopped when Iron Man fell.

They’d been over it, talked it through, and Steve and Tony had agreed that Steve was the leader of the team and he couldn’t prioritize one member over the others. For the most part, Steve felt he did a good job of staying Cap when the cowl was on and the shield was in his hand. But every time Iron Man took a particularly bad hit, or fell off the comm, or landed rough, there was a brief flash where they were just Steve and Tony and Steve felt the debilitating pain of seeing his partner in danger.

So for a horrible moment, everything stopped when Iron Man fell.

They never started the day expecting an Assemble, even more so lately since it had been so long since their last. Steve had hardly taken any missions, as SHIELD was still rebuilding from the HYDRA infestation, so the two of them had had lots of sweet alone time together in the last few weeks. They sunk deep into domesticity and floated there. The upcoming holidays only served to make the violence and bloodshed seem even further away. Sprigs of green and twinkling tinsel coated the tower and, somehow, a massive evergreen had appeared in the Avengers living room overnight.

That morning, Steve had padded into the bathroom to find Tony humming AC/DC to himself in the shower.

Steve had sat down, with his back against the counter and his legs stretched out in front of him. He hooked his fingers in the collar he still wore from last night and tugged a little, enjoying the feeling of restraint twisted together with belonging, just as the vibranium twisted with the leather.

“That’d better be Steve,” Tony said from the glass-enclosed shower stall. “If it’s Clint you’re going to get a show you really don’t want to see.”

Steve chuckled. “It’s me.”

“Hey, babe. What are you up to?”

Steve let his eyes drift shut. “Listening to you.”

“Sap.” Steve heard the click of a shampoo bottle, and his fingers twitched with the urge to run them through Tony’s hair. “Will you be lovely and listen to me natter on about my latest project for a while?”

“Of course.”

Tony dove in, talking about something called alcohol dehydrogenase and acetaldehyde in great detail and occasionally stopping to argue with himself about science that went over Steve’s head and possibly draw diagrams on the shower walls with the sharpie he never seemed to be without. By the time he shut off the water and swung the glass door open, Steve was deep in a sea of Tony’s voice, languid and lax and halfway to floating. “Well, that’s a beautiful sight.”

Steve turned to grin up at him, then pulled his knees up to let Tony pass. Tony grabbed a towel, and Steve watched appreciatively as teasing glimpses of Tony’s naked body peeked out from the terrycloth. Tony rubbed the towel over his hair, sending it wild, then tossed it in the basket in the corner. He stepped forward, between Steve’s knees and furrowed his fingers in Steve’s hair. Steve made as if to get up and give Tony access to the sink, but Tony’s fingers tightened, holding him in place. “Stay right there, love.”

Tony’s fingers wandered down to Steve’s jaw and levered his mouth open gently. When Steve tipped his chin up obligingly, eyes meeting Tony’s, Tony slipped his cock between Steve’s lips. His skin was wet and tasted like soap and Tony. He was soft, but as Steve closed his lips around his cock and swallowed, he felt him harden, settling heavy on Steve’s tongue. A bloom of pride unfurled in Steve’s chest, knowing he could make Tony’s body react, coax a response out of him so easily. Steve sucked gently, rolling his tongue and building up a slick layer of spit. Tony sighed happily and leaned forward into the contact.

A sudden rush of water above let Steve know that Tony had turned on the sink, continuing his morning routine while Steve serviced his cock. The soft, easy thrusts of Tony’s hips kept Steve’s pace easy and slow, more providing a hot wet place for Tony to push into than sucking him off with any kind of goal in mind. He could read Tony now, sense what he wanted and easy was what he was looking for now.

Tony was fully hard now, filling Steve’s mouth and threatening the back of his throat. Steve was hard too, but he wouldn’t even have noticed if Tony’s feet hadn’t shuffled between his thighs and brushed his cock. Steve’s knees tightened unconsciously, trapping Tony between his legs, and Tony hummed in response, tipping back to peer down at him with his toothbrush disappearing into his mouth and toothpaste all over his lips. He pushed forward again, a little harder this time, and Steve moaned around his cock, feeling the head hit the back of his throat.

Tony leaned forward again, disappearing into the rush of the sink and the clack of his water cup. Steve let his eyes drift shut and his head rest against the counter, relaxing his jaw and letting Tony rock gently between his lips.

The sink shut off, and Tony pulled back, replacing his cock with two of his fingers when Steve whimpered at the loss. Flames flickered in Tony’s eyes as he watched Steve suck his fingers, his own mouth falling open so his tongue could dart over his lips. “Come here.” Tony dropped his hand to Steve’s chin and urged him up until he could kiss him hard and eager. He tasted like mint toothpaste. “Breakfast first. Then I have plans for you.”

The Assemble came halfway through breakfast, and Steve was struck with a bolt of hot guilt that his first thought had been disappointment that he was going to miss out on Tony’s plans, instead of worry over whatever destruction they were being called in to stop.

Tony hurried over and pulled the collar off as soon as the alarms sounded, forcing Steve to meet his eye until he shook off the last remnants of subspace and gave Tony a sharp nod. Tony shoved the last of his bacon in his mouth and they broke for the jet.

They were robots. They had to be robots, it was the only explanation. But they didn’t look like robots, they looked like ventriloquist dummies. Wide, painted eyes and slack-jawed mouths, their arms hung in the arm like they were being held up by invisible strings. Whenever they stopped moving, they slumped, chins to their chests, wrists lax. It was horrifying. And they were endless.

They swarmed the neighborhood, attacking anything they could get in their sights, from people, to buildings, to cars. If they weren’t engaged with an Avenger, they were being as destructive as possible and the team tore through them as quickly as possible, trying to draw the attention to themselves and away from the city. The puppets hit hard, and they were relentless, but after over forty minutes of battle, the team finally started pushing them back under some semblance of control.

There was a crackle, like the air had filled with static electricity, then Steve’s comm went dead. Steve opened his mouth to call across the alley to Nat, to see if her comm was out too, when he looked up and saw Iron Man fall.

A streak of red plummeted through the sky, and Steve could tell from the position of his body that it was not a controlled descent. Ice water flooded through his veins. He pelted across the street to Nat.

“Comm?!” he yelled.

“Nothing!” she called back.

“Iron Man is down!”

“Go! I’ll get eyes on the others.” She smashed her bites into the chest of one of the robots, sending it twitching to the floor then made a beeline for Hawkeye’s last known location. Thor was high in the sky, off in the distance, but he was locked in combat with one of the puppets and either hadn’t seen Tony fall, or couldn’t get away from the thing long enough to help. Steve blazed down the alley, throwing his shield ahead of him to clear a path.

He skidded around the corner and came to a halt where he’d seen Tony fall. The street was empty. His comm was still nothing but dead noise, but there was no way, after a fall like that, that Tony wouldn’t swing by to let him know he was alright. But this had to have been where he fell. Steve took a few steps forward and the light fell on a broken patch of concrete. When he moved over towards it, he realized that the sidewalk had bent inward, cracked by some immense downward force. The edges spiked up and there was still a halo of concrete dust around it. Steve bent down and ran his hand across the bottom of the small crater. There was a long sharp scratch dug into the concrete, and when Steve leaned forward he could see. The scratch was dark, made by something metal, and along one side was a rough line of red paint.

Tony had fallen here, and now he was gone. Someone had taken him.

Chapter Two

“Hey, Pinocchio!” Tony called cheerfully, swooping low to scoop up one of the robotic puppets. “Let’s go for a ride!” He spiralled up into the air, one of the thing’s gangly arms trapped in the gauntlet of the suit.

He was feeling giddy. It was disappointing to have his morning with Steve interrupted, but in some ways, this was better. He enjoyed imagining all the things he and Steve could do together when they got back to the penthouse, and then enjoyed wondering what Steve was imagining Tony had planned. He hummed happily as he zipped up higher and higher until he heard the puppet’s electronics crackle and pop. “Icing, buddy. It’s a real problem.” He dropped low again and dropped the puppet, enjoying the sickening crack when it hit the pavement.

He jetted over the tall building beside him, getting eyes on the rest of the team, making sure no one needed air support before he took on a new robot. Steve’s sleek form caught his eye, and he allowed himself a moment to admire his lover in battle. Steve spun and dove and struck, the shield flying out of his palm to bring down robot after robot then ricocheting back to his hand in a perfectly choreographed dance.

A crash to his left pulled his attention away from Steve and back to the fight. A puppet robot was attacking a stopped car, smashing its fist against the window. Tony spun towards it, high in the sky, but just as he was preparing to dive down again, a strange shockwave passed over him. The suit crackled with static electricity and for a moment, Tony felt as if his breath had been robbed.

And then the HUD went blank.

A few versions of the suit had eye holes Tony could actually see out of, but most of them relied on the video feeds from outside, displayed on the inside of the helmet. And those feeds were a number one priority for JARVIS.

“J?” Tony asked. There was no reply. Tony moved his hands, rapidly cycling through the subtle triggers that controlled the suit, but it wouldn’t respond. His stomach swooped, and he realized that even though he couldn’t see the ground approaching, he must be falling. Panic twisted in his gut, and he frantically tried to fire the repulsors but nothing was responding. There were no alerts or warnings—he just fell, dead in the sky.

Tony found himself struggling uselessly inside the suit, berating himself for not putting a manual release in this mark. This suit was heavy and heavily-armed and a little bit prototype still. It had been so long since he’d had an issue like the icing problem with Mark II that he’d stopped worrying about taking new models out in the field.

His stomach swooped again, and he tried to brace himself for the inevitable impact. The suit was designed to protect him in case of a crash, but it still slammed through his whole body when he finally hit the ground. The impact was a breath-stealing surprise with no way to see the ground coming. Briefly stunned, he lay flat on the ground, sucking useless breaths into lungs that had seized up. It felt like ages before his body clicked into action again, and the air reached his lungs, finally flooding his body with oxygen. He sucked in rapid, painful breaths, focusing on nothing else until his body stopped screaming that he was drowning, or worse, trapped in space again.

Every inch of him throbbed with pain, a few unexpected hot tears leaking out of the sides of his eyes. Tentatively, he wiggled each of his fingers and toes, prepared for something to be broken, but thankfully, they all moved when commanded and his bones appeared to be intact. Every muscle, tendon, and joint whined though, shocked by the hit. He knew his comm was dead, but he couldn’t help the small, “Steve?” that leaked out. There was no reply.

He tried to lift an arm, but the armor was too heavy to move from the inside. He braced himself and put all his strength into trying to shift the suit, roll it to the side, anything, but it remained flat on the ground, pinning him inside.

Panic flared again—the wild kind this time—and his heart rate shot dangerously high. His breaths were short and sharp now. Even though he knew the filters would have opened when the suit died, letting outside air leak in, it suddenly felt like there wasn’t enough of it in the suit. He sucked in between his teeth and tried to will his body to calm down, but it wouldn’t. Pulse after pulse of bitter adrenaline flooded his bloodstream until his head was spinning with the need to fight or flight.

He tried shifting the suit again, but when it wouldn't budge, it only served to send him wilder with panic. He was trapped and he couldn’t get out and he would be stuck here forever, pinned inside his own creation—the thing that was supposed to protect him. He let out a half sob, half scream of frustration and squeezed his eyes shut.

Steve.

Steve would find him. Steve wouldn’t let him rot here. Steve would rip the fucking suit off his body piece by piece if he had to. Tony focused on two things: breathing slowly and Steve. He directed his manic mind to turn its entire attention to memories of that morning, in their bathroom, Steve at his feet, perfect lips parted, letting Tony slide between. He was so giving, so gorgeous in his surrender. And he was Tony’s. And he wasn’t going to leave him here. Any minute, the faceplate would tear off with a horrible grind of metal, and Steve’s face would be the first thing he’d see.

Any minute…

There was loud, grinding, groaning noise, and Tony realized he could hear what was going on outside the suit. But it wasn’t voices, just the creaking of tortured machinery. A moment later, the suit jerked, shaking him inside, then shifted. He was…being lifted? But none of the Avengers were strong enough to lift the suit with him inside it. Steve or Thor could easily rip the faceplate off, and they would, immediately, to make sure Tony was okay. But instead he was being lifted straight up, slow but steady…and the creak of machinery. A crane?

And there was panic again, because SHIELD and the Avengers had no reason to lift him with a crane. That was insane. Which meant someone else was. The someone who had downed him in the first place. Because he could tell himself it had been electrical failure on his part all he wanted, but he knew that wasn’t true. Someone had found a way to EMP the Iron Man armor and now they were stealing it, with Tony trapped inside.

Well, at least he was a pro at being kidnapped, Tony thought with a whimper. Memories of Afghanistan roared up inside him. His chest throbbed as the car battery shorted against his skin—wet hair, sore throat, and fear, fear, fear. They might leave him in the suit—maybe to die; his most prized possession turned coffin.

What did they want with him this time? To build some weapon of mass destruction? To take the suit? To rip his heart out of his chest?

Only this time, his heart was split, half beating against the casing of the arc reactor, and half out there, throwing that shield, fighting on, probably with no idea that Tony was currently being carted away.

“So you’re a man who has everything…and nothing,” Yinsen had said, and back then it had been true. But now, now Tony had everything and that meant he had everything to lose. Now he stood for something, now he fought for something, now he had a family.

Now he had Steve.

He wished, right down to the pit of his stomach, that the comm had still been live or worked for just a moment. Even if it wasn’t enough to get the team there in time to save him, he would have liked to have had the opportunity to say goodbye to Steve. He’d escaped the last time. It didn’t seem possible that he could get that lucky twice.

Chapter Three

“Gorgeous.” Tony’s breath ghosted across Steve’s bare shoulder as he whispered in his ear from behind. The praise washed over Steve like warm water, sinking him under. He flexed his muscles into the ropes that crisscrossed his body and thrilled when they refused to give.

He sat with his legs folded under him and his knees spread wide. The ropes danced over his heated skin, tying his ankles to his thighs and trapping his arms behind his back. Steve tipped his chin up, eyes closed, as Tony’s palm stroked over the back of his shoulders. Tony was still fully dressed which only made the overwhelming humiliation of being naked and trussed up even more intense. Steve knew his cheeks were hot and the weight of his needy cock between his thighs was hard to ignore.

“What a good boy,” Tony whispered between his shoulder blades, tracing a single finger down his spine and over his bound hands. Steve took a shuddering breath and arched into and away from the touch, bowing his shoulders back and pushing his rapidly beating heart up towards the ceiling. “What do you want, love?”

Steve could barely speak, his tongue a dead weight in his mouth. He swallowed hard and managed, “Touch me, please.”

He could hear Tony’s lips break into a smile. The finger stroked down his back again, over his hands and to his ass. Tony slipped his hand between the cheeks and teased Steve’s hole, chuckling when Steve jerked in the ropes, unable to move. He was whimpering, begging maybe, and Tony just kept teasing him, his strokes getting softer and softer. Steve huffed out a desperate breath, and the touch disappeared entirely. He hung, waiting, being good for Tony, knowing Tony liked to see him wild with need before giving in and letting him find release.

His chest heaved as he sucked in air, quivering in his bonds. Time passed, and Tony’s touch didn’t return. “Please,” he tried, to no avail. His eyes opened, but the room was dark and so, so still.

“Tony?” There was no answer.

The room darkened further.

Steve squirmed against the ropes, but instead of supporting him, they were tightening now. Every time he moved, they squeezed his chest a little harder. Panic surged up then exploded in his gut. He was trapped, he couldn’t move. “Tony!” He struggled violently, summoning all of his super strength. Hot tears poured down his face. Where was Tony? The ropes ticked tighter and tighter until Steve could no longer pull in breath, curling into himself as the pain overwhelmed him.

“To-” Steve surged up, flinging his arms wide and cracking his knuckles painfully against the headboard. His chest heaved up and down, sucking in gasping mouthfuls of oxygen. His eyes immediately fell on the empty stretch of bed to his left, and he was seeing Tony fall all over again. Bound frozen not by ropes in the night but his own fear, his own disbelief. He had frozen, and now Tony was gone.

The team had found him in the middle of the street, bent over with his leather clad fingers brushing against the red paint.

Gone.

A sob broke from his chest, anguish and anger, a coiled up burn of self-hatred and regret. He had no way of knowing where Tony was, with the comms down and JARVIS offline, there was nothing, not a beep announcing Tony’s presence to the world.

The wrongness of that, of a man so big and bright and the center of Steve’s world reduced to a dead signal on the radar. His fist clenched hard against their bedsheets because even surrounded by all this technology, all the wonders of the modern world, he still had to see the man he loved fall from the sky, lost to Steve like so many others. But not like the others at all.

Tony.

He had to find him. It was all he could say to his team, once he could say anything at all. Hawkeye had arrived at the scene first, screaming his name from a nearby rooftop. At the time he hadn’t heard him, too busy repeating the same word over and over and over in his mind. “No, no, no…”

Strong arms, probably Thor had latched under his, in an attempt to pull him away. Steve’s feet dug into the asphalt of their own accord, pushing up chunks of cement causing the red paint to shift and crack and fall to pieces. Steve went limp. He remembered Natasha’s face coming into view, her eyes wet and concerned. It was all too much at once, seeing her so wildly affected as well, knowing that they were urging him to leave, to take him from this place where Tony had needed him the most. He’d arrived, too late.

His stomach churned now, because that had been valuable time to find him, and Steve had frozen, useless, like he was back under the ocean, time suspended until Tony returned.

He could hardly talk to anyone back at the tower, went straight to his room and laid down, picturing Tony falling over and over until he fell into a fitful sleep. The team benched him until further notice; until Tony returned.

Because Tony had to come home. Steve’s collar still lay where Tony had left it on the dresser after breakfast. Waiting unbuckled for familiar, loving hands to wrap it back around Steve’s neck—and he couldn’t be in this bed anymore, couldn’t have this glaring Tony-shaped hole laying in the bed next to him. He pushed up and stumbled out the door.

He didn’t know where he was going, and it didn’t matter. As soon as he shoved out the bedroom door, a hand came over the back of the sofa, wrapping around his wrist and halting him in his path.

He didn’t have the energy to shake her away or to say anything, all he could do was stand there waiting for Natasha to explain her presence, or not, it didn’t much matter.

“Look at me.”

It wasn’t until he heard her words that he realized he’d been staring at the carpet. She held Steve’s gaze for a long time, before she took in his heavy brow and hunched shoulders.

“Come here.” She patted the couch next to her, and for some horribly masochistic reason his mind supplied him with a memory from a morning a couple months back. Steve had worked Tony’s shirt buttons closed one at a time after peeling them apart to kiss his way down Tony’s chest, keeping him from leaving for work. How his eyes had danced, following Steve’s progress over his skin. And how he had stretched out, settled back on the cushions, morning light streaming over his face as he laughed. “Steve,” Nat prompted again, voice firm.

He walked around the couch, coming to stand in front of her. He felt lost, so tired and everywhere was memories of Tony. On the couch, in the kitchen, by the windows, all of it marked some way by the man he loved.

“Sit with me.”

He did, it felt rigid and wrong. Everything felt wrong.

“Not like that, like this.” She nudged at his shoulder until his head came to rest on her lap, legs coming up to sprawl on the couch. Her hand found his hair and ran through the strands, her fingers thinner than Tony’s, her nails longer, and what if he never felt the right hands again?

A shudder followed the thought, breath catching on every broken sob. Above him, Nat hummed, and a soothing hand rubbed his shoulder. “Fury has everyone on it. JARVIS is hacking every surveillance camera and monitoring any chatter. If anyone so much as mentions him, we’ll know.”

There was so much more he could be doing, scouring the planet for him; but doing something rash wouldn’t help anyone. They needed intel first, before he could act. Steve knew it, but it didn’t stop the spiral of thoughts, his mind screaming at him to do something!

Natasha’s hand gripped his head, sure and unforgiving, and Steve’s breath caught. “What—What are you doing?” He asked between puffed breaths, sparks from her grip forming along his scalp.

“You’re mind is going a mile a minute.” Her words were soft, kind. “And you’re exhausted. Let me help you.” Her fingers loosened their hold, reverting to running through his strands.

Steve tensed.

Nat snorted. “Not like that, you dolt. I'm not going to make you kneel before me or anything. Just this..." Her grip tightened again, this time around his head instead of his hair, pushing into his temple and along his hairline. He focused on her fingers, the press and release of tension, press and release, press and release, a meditative rhythm he could focus on, follow and float into, settling under her secure strength. He was lost without Tony, but Nat anchored him with each sure stroke of her hand.

Chapter Four

The first thing Tony became aware of when they extracted him from the suit was a damp cloth pressed against his face, and then he was out again. When he woke up, his arms were stretched too tight above him, hooked to a chain around an exposed cement support beam. He was in a garage, or a small warehouse, and there was absolutely nothing else in the room with him but the chains around this wrists, and the very creepy ventriloquist's dummy robot that sat, motionless, against the wall opposite him.

As if placed there intentionally.

“So not just physical torture, then? We’re also going to add mind games in the mix?” Tony shouted into the empty room. “Good, good, just checking. Solid plan, the painted grin on that thing’s face is truly terrifying.” He kicked his leg out in the direction of the dummy, coming nowhere near it at all. The extra flourish was suspicious. It made this feel a little too personal.

He was alone, and the part of him that lacked any self-preservation was thankful. Alone meant maybe it was just him here, maybe the other Avengers had evaded capture. These people were obviously toying with him, and nothing toyed with a man more than parading his injured and unconscious teammates out in front of him. He was alone. He hoped.

If Steve were here, tied up or beaten down—Tony’s stomach curled at the thought. He couldn’t think about him, about any of them. He needed to escape.

He looked around the room for a camera. In the corner of the ceiling, there was a grate that could easily hide one. He narrowed his eyes and glared. “There’s a lot of reasons why people go about kidnapping me. Not my first rodeo, you know? Last time it was for weapons. But I don’t see any loose tech around waiting for a new owner, so it’s not that. Money? Maybe. Would make the most sense...unless.” He dropped his eye from the grate to stare at the dummy. Something didn’t sit right with him about it—the fixed stare, grin hooked open and arms loose by its side. “You make horrible company, you know that?” he asked the robot—weapon—thing, as he tried to puzzle out why someone would go through the trouble to design something this terrifying. A puppet of death.

The door next to the robot slammed open, and the reverberation shook the walls enough that the dummy pitched to the side and fell to the floor. A man walked in the door, burly and unpleasant looking. Tony met his gaze, and the man looked at him, not as if he were their golden goose, but down his nose at him, as if Tony were nothing.

It was a surprise. The last thing he wanted right now was to be surprised.

The man looked vaguely familiar, which never meant anything good. It spoke of personal relationships, of motive. The man snapped his fingers and looked out the door, presumably down the hallway, and then men started swarming in. Each and every one of them carried a box or crate. Tony could see a screwdriver and computer parts sticking out of the top of one. They wanted something from him, him specifically. His heart raced, because it was another point in favor of the Steve’s Not Here hypothesis.

But they wanted him to make something horrible, of that he had no doubt. They always want something horrible. A rush of panic coursed through him, one that he’d been able subdue before by focusing on the robot. His breath came into his chest too ragged, too shallow, and a phantom pain erupted behind his arc reactor. Back in the cave, he had woken surrounded by parts, a gaping hole in his chest, and the garage he was in suddenly smelled damp, tasted like sweat and sand.

“Hey!” The man holding open the door shouted. “Someone smack him, he’s having some sort of fit.”

A large hand with a rough palm slammed into the side of his face, and Tony swung in the chains, focused on the pain. He let it root him in the here and now. Another smack, this time on the opposite side of his face before the man pulled back, only to spit on Tony’s flaming cheek. Then the guy started to go to town on him, smack after smack until a rhythm formed, one that seared with broken skin, but one that was predictable.

“That’s enough!” The man by the door shouted. “Rumlow’s coming.”

Tony stopped breathing. These were Pierce’s men. The same Pierce that was rotting six feet under. The same Rumlow that tried to corner his  Steve in an elevator. When the man’s form entered the doorway, Tony was already growling.

Rumlow laughed. “Well, well, we have a live one.”

His lackeys laughed. Tony seethed.

“Yeah, that’s right, Metalman. You didn’t see the last of us.” Rumlow walked down the stairs like they were designed especially for him, having silent conversations with his lackeys using nothing more that threatening glances and head gestures. They started unloading computer parts and snapping together a workstation. “We’re going to set you up real nice, and guess what?” He stopped in front of Tony, eye to eye. “When you’re a good boy for us, and agree to do exactly what we say, we’ll even unchain you to do it.”

“How gracious.” Tony rolled his eyes, and he knew he should keep his mouth shut but baiting these guys, keeping the focus on him, meant they weren’t able to beat anyone else. If Steve was here—No, he couldn’t think about it. A smile instead, to piss them off and mask the pain.  “My last kidnappers managed to cause life-threatening harm before they even had me in hand. You’re slacking.”

A first to his gut, and all the breath was knocked out of Tony. His body attempted to fold in half but the chain wouldn’t give enough slack to let him. His shoulder sockets screamed. There was laughter, he could hear it through his coughing and groaning, and Tony started taking names, trying to figure out how he could start kicking some ass. There was the guy by the door, with his bald head and Mr. Clean muscles. Scrawny kid in the corner, and a man with more tattoos than blank skin.

Rumlow, apparently feeling left out from Tony’s mental roll call, decided to slam a fist into the side of his head. His ear popped, and everything started to spin. Blood flooded his mouth, and he had to spit it out to breathe. “Project Insight?” Tony asked, once he could speak, because these goons weren’t smart enough to devise their own large-scale nefarious plan. Kidnapping and torturing Tony was the extent of their knowhow.

Rumlow laughed, clapping his hands and gesturing to Mr. Tattoo. “See, I told you picking up a genius would be funner than most. You owe me five dollars.”

“We ain’t done with him, yet,” Tattoo man gruffed. “He could still give you problems.”

Rumlow turned back to Tony, reaching out to pinch his ringing ear hard, twisting and pulling until he cried out. “You’re not going to give us problems are you?”

He groaned, the pain in his head radiating up to meet the pain in his outstretched arms. It took all his strength to straighten his head, but when he did, Tony glared at Rumlow. “What do you think?”

“Well shucks,” Rumlow replied, voice oozing with sardonic disdain. “Looks like we’re going to have to convince you another way.”

“To do what? Project Insight died with Pierce.”

Rumlow walked over to the computer that scrawny kid was setting up. Tapped on the screen before looking back at Tony. “Not dead, if you program these chips. We break into the helicarrier and Mission Accomplished.”

“Program the chips to do what?” Tony shifted, trying to find a way to loosen the strain on his wrists as he baited Rumlow into a conversation with words, instead of one with violence. “Insight was going to, what? Proactively kill potential threats? There were hundreds of thousands of people on that list. I was on that list.” Steve was on that list. It wasn’t going to happen. These former SHIELD turned Hydra goons were not going to let him put Steve in harm's way.

“That look in his eye? Looks like you’ll be owing me money after all,” Tattoo man said around a grin.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Rumlow said, reaching over Tony to pull at his chains, testing their weight. “Jones,” he called up to the man holding the door open. “Go get R3978.”

Chapter Five

The first time he heard a scream, Steve thought it was coming from his own mind. He kept his focus on the screen where Jarvis was running the numbers, scanning the airwaves, looking for Tony every way he knew how, while all Steve could do was stare at the fruitless results.

Tony was still missing, unable to talk to Steve, let alone scream at him for help.

The second time he heard a scream, he dropped the book from his hands and pushed up from the couch, following the sound. He couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t until he tasted the bitter rush of blood that he realized he’d been biting the inside of his cheek. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears; it was like going underwater again. Not the soft, soothing slip of Tony bringing him down, but the harsh, ice-cold shock of the plane plowing into the Arctic.

Another scream broke the silence, and then Steve was running down the hallway. He checked every guestroom, looking for anything that could be the source of the sound. The hallway was empty, and the screams only grew fainter, so he turned on his heel and ran to the other side of the common room, where his old bedroom used to be, before he had moved up to the penthouse with Tony.

The door was closed, which wasn’t unusual. Another explosive scream rang out, and Steve had to wipe the blur from his eyes before kicking the door down, fists up and ready for battle.

Blue light from the television illuminated the room. Tony was sobbing in the center of the screen. He was curled on the hard concrete, folded in half with a rope tying his ankles to the thick of his thighs. But the rope wasn’t rope, it was lighting up, bursts of energy, of electricity, jolting Tony and making him seize on the cement and scream.

Steve’s knees buckled, and he fell to the floor.

There was laughter in that room. Now that he was closer, he could hear it, muffled under Tony’s screams until the electrical sparks stopped, then the room fell silent save for his own ragged breathing. Steve’s face was wet, and he had to rub his eyes to see the screen. But he couldn’t look away, because Tony needed him to be strong, to think, to figure it out. Tony must have sent the video, somehow, and Tony always had a reason. Steve had to use it, look for any sign or clue, to bring Tony back. There was no other option. This was proof that he was still alive, and Steve intended to keep him that way. “JARVIS—”

“I’ve already begun tracing the source of the transmission, Captain.”

“Good.” The word tasted wrong in his mouth.

On the screen, Tony jerked in the ropes, despite the electricity no longer running through them. Fear rushed the blood through his ears, forcing everything else to fade away except Tony.  He was struggling, like he was trying to get out, like he hadn’t given up. And all Steve could do was sit there, helpless, useless, and shame mixed with his overwhelming terror. Tony was in peril, and even though he had promised to care for him, chosen to be good for him in every way, here and now, Steve could do nothing.

He ached, numb and scared and frozen, when, from the side of the screen, a leg kicked Tony in the kidney. Steve jerked back, feeling the kick along with him, then stumbled to his feet, reaching out towards the screen, until a voice spoke from off screen. It was a different voice than the man that kicked Tony, a familiar voice. Steve’s blood ran cold. “I told you not to move, unless you were going to do what I said.”

Rumlow. Pierce had gone down when Bucky turned on HYDRA, but the Strike Team had vanished into the wind. They should’ve gone after them. No, Steve should’ve punched Rumlow’s brains out of the back of his head in that elevator, but he didn’t. The fact was, he could have prevented this. This was what happened when they dropped their guard and thought they were safe, forgot to look over their shoulder and be proactive. Tony was gone.

“Fuck you,” Tony spat, and the man kicked him again and again, until Tony was sobbing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and stopped moving entirely.

“Not yet,” Rumlow hissed. “But you’re about to be.”

The ropes exploded with electricity again, and Steve stumbled back until he hit the bed, eyes glued to the scene because he had to watch this for Tony, had to be there for him, even though his mind was spiraling. Tony in ropes, Tony in pain, a memory of Tony’s voice telling him not to move unless he was going to do as Tony said. He sobbed with Tony, because he couldn’t help him, he couldn’t do anything. He was helpless, while Tony, tortured and bloodied on the floor, did more to help the situation than he did. He sent this video, a trail for Steve to follow.

“How long before you break, Stark?”

“Probably not long,” Tony admitted, failing to keep the painful groan out of his voice. And Steve wondered if he was answering Rumlow not for Rumlow’s sake, but because he hoped that Steve would hear his words.

Steve needed to move, he was wasting time. “JARVIS, status?”

“58 seconds.”

“We need to be faster, JARVIS. We’ve waited long enough. We don’t even know if this is live, he could be—” Steve wouldn’t think it, Tony Stark didn’t die, not like this.

“Not such a big shot now?” A third man started taunting from off screen, and Steve’s fingers itched to reach out and crush his windpipe.

“JARVIS.”

“Another 30 seconds.”

The man came into view, pacing in front of Tony who was almost passed out now, the fight leaving him in favor of unconsciousness, but the man didn’t care, he stepped on Tony’s ankle until he screamed.

Steve was up, gripping the edges of the TV as he shouted for JARVIS to hurry. His hands braced the sides, cracking the rim.

“Location Confirmed.” A pause. “Sir, might I advise you to wait for the team?”

“Give me the location.”

“Sir—”

“Authorization Override, Tony Stark, Code: 989s4t; Now give me the location.”

It was an address on the outskirts of the city, a nearby warehouse district that was close enough that Steve could be there in less than an hour. He took one last look at Tony, and prayed that when he got to the warehouse he would still be breathing. Rumlow wanted Tony for something, and Steve had to believe that that would give him enough time. He took a long look at the men torturing Tony, committed their faces to memory. Then he turned off the television and left the room.

The team had taken the quinjets, so his bike was the next fastest way out the city.  It was waiting for him when he pushed open the door of the garage. Steve slid on, starting the engine and barely sparing the time to put on his helmet. He took a deep breath, and when he closed his eyes, all could see was Tony in ropes.

Tony and ropes meant safety, warmth. Locked in Tony’s cuffs meant that he was being loved, held.

Except now Tony was shuddering in bindings of pain and torture, and Steve had to stop it. He revved the engine, and for a single moment, the fear and the pain bubbled in his chest, but he swallowed down his sob. Tony needed him, and that was all that mattered. He shot off into the night.

Chapter Six

Tony couldn’t stop shivering. He knew it wasn’t that cold in the room, and his body was utterly exhausted, but the shaking wouldn’t stop. The movement only made everything worse, because every muscle and joint was screaming in agony. They’d shocked him until he’d finally relented, agreeing to program the Insight chips. And they’d set him a deadline—tomorrow morning. That was as much time as he could buy the others to find him. Though he had no idea how they would.

He could pretend to code for as long as possible, but when the deadline hit they were going to test the program and see it was bogus. Then they’d either shock him again or just kill him outright and move on to the next genius. They probably wouldn’t even have to tie Hammer up at all, if they could get their hands on him. He’d do it willingly just to be the only extraordinary mind left in the world.

Tony curled his hands over his stomach and tried to will the shaking to stop. They’d left him alone with the computer, a few guards by the door, and the creepy robot puppet, still shackled but with his hands free enough to type. And finally free enough to curl and shake for a while until the pain subsided.

When he could find the strength to sit up, he’d see if there was a way to get a message to the tower, access JARVIS, or broadcast his coordinates somehow, but he doubted there would be. They’d brought him here especially for his technological prowess, it wasn’t like they were just going to hand over the wifi password. And if he could think more clearly, get this horrible grey fog out of his head, he’d probably be able to come up with a way to hack through, but right now…right now all he could think about was Steve.

Steve…Tony hadn’t known it was possible to miss someone this badly. They’d been apart before, sometimes for a long time, but this time there was a gaping, raw, Steve-shaped wound in his gut. He didn’t even know if he’d made it out of the battle…

As the pain radiated through his body, Tony found his mind sinking more and more into a dreamscape, his memories mixing with fantasies he’d had planned for the two of them to play out. Steve spread out underneath him, flushed, eager, and willing. Tony owned every inch of his body but he never wanted to stop claiming him, marking him, taking him. And Steve gave it all. So gorgeous...

Rumlow interrupted Tony’s fantasy by stomping into the room, three black-clad morons in tow. “How’s it going, Tony? I don’t hear typing.” He sneered.

Tony hauled himself up to his knees and glared at Rumlow. “I was trying to decide what I should photoshop your head onto.”

Rumlow actually laughed which only pissed Tony off more. He dipped his head to speak quietly to a few of his goons, and Tony summoned the strength to crawl up the edge of the box that the computer was on and see what he was working with.

There was a clang down the hallway. Tony’s fingers paused on the keyboard. He sensed more than heard movement, and he lifted his head, curious. Three more STRIKE idiots had silently poured into the room.

Another clang.

Another STRIKE goon entered.

Tony shifted around, hand gripping the edge of the box to keep his shaky legs steady. He counted. There were almost twice as many in the room as there had been for kicking the crap out of him. That was…excessive—

Another clang. And there was no mistaking it now. The shield. Oh god, Steve was coming for him. Tony choked back a whimper, not wanting to give Rumlow the pleasure of hearing him nearly broken. Tony looked up at the man now, to catch a moment of triumph, to see the dawning realization and take comfort in Rumlow’s fear. But when he found Rumlow’s eyes, it wasn’t fear there…

It was triumph.

And there were ten more guys in tac suits.

Tony’s soaring heart plummeted back down to his feet, tearing through his stomach on the way down and taking him to the floor with it. It suddenly all clicked into place. They’d never wanted him at all. The torture, the demands, none of it was real. Tony was easy to take down, to stop, once you had a way to drop the suit, but how do you get Captain America in a room with thirty highly trained soldiers ready to take him down?

You take Tony.

Tony suppressed the urge to yell, to struggle against his bonds. It was too late to do anything now, as soon as Steve heard his voice he’d be in here. All Tony could do was hope that the Avengers had a plan that prepared them for the onslaught Rumlow had set up.

But when Steve finally burst through the door, he was alone.

“Steve! Get out! It’s a fucking tr—” Rumlow’s hand struck across Tony’s face, slamming the rest of his sentence into the floor. And it didn’t matter anyway, because there was no way for Steve to get out now. The STRIKE team and their new recruits swarmed him. Where the fuck where the rest of the Avengers?

Tony grunted out in frustration, shaking his cuffed hands in vain. The shield collided with one man’s shoulder, plowing him bodily into two more and bringing all three to the floor. A crackle broke through the grunts and thuds of battle, and Steve’s immense advantage was brought low when Rumlow wrapped the electrified bonds around his neck and turned it on.

It must have settings higher than the ones they used against Tony. Steve hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, and in a second they were on him. He was wrestled to his feet, still jerking and shaking under the force of the shock, but his teeth were already clenched, jaw going tight, and Tony knew that look; Steve was going to push through it.

But it was too much. They slammed Steve’s hands against the wall, using the same cuffs Steve had told him they’d used in SHIELD’s elevator, clearly further reinforced. There were too many of them this time. They hadn’t made the mistake of limiting their forces with a small space. Rumlow had stacked the deck wildly in his favor, and managed to pull Steve in without the rest of the team.

Steve struggled as the swarm of men overpowered him, not letting him get enough leverage to break free of the cuffs, even through the shocks seemed to have abated for now. In his panic, he shot a look to Tony, desperate and needy. Tony raged against his bonds, struggling and fighting even as the last of his depleted strength waned. They had their filthy hands on his Steve and he needed—

The far door exploded off its hinges, and Tony tucked his face into his shoulder automatically, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, Nat and Bucky were charging through the door, guns blazing. A green arm appeared after, then the Hulk shouldered his way in, snapping the door frame in two and sending spider-web cracks up the wall around it.

“Fuck, they weren’t supposed to get here so fast!” someone yelled.

There was a grunt from Rumlow. “They split up the team, you idiot—take the others!”

Unprepared, the STRIKE team split too, half staying crowded around the restrained Steve, and half turning to face the new threat. The momentary confusion allowed Steve to get one leg free which was all he needed. He hiked his knee up and slammed his heel against the wall, using the leverage to spin and clock the nearest goon in the jaw. Tony could hear the sickening crack of breaking bones. Steve ripped his arm forward and the cuff exploded—reinforcements be damned. He ripped the electric rope off his neck and slammed the handful into the face of the nearest STRIKE operative. It must have still been live, though Steve had stopped reacting, because it clicked loudly and the man hit the floor, twitching and whining.

Tony was starting to find it hard to follow the fight. Flashes of color, shouts, it was all background to Steve’s face. The edges of his vision blurred, and he swallowed hard a few times, trying to clear his mind and his sight but getting nowhere. The Hulk roared—more thuds and painful cries.

And then heavy breathing, nearby. His blinked his eyes open, not remembering having closed them at all, and Steve was there. Right there, leaning over him.

“Tony, Tony, Tony,” he muttered to himself, his eyes on Tony’s chest. There were hands now, flitting over him, stroking, petting, testing, looking for damage.

“Steve.” Tony reached for his hand, but couldn’t seem to find it with his own. There was a thump behind them, and Tony caught a blur of metal and a clang, then a thud. Steve was breathing heavily, a scrape across his forehead spilling blood over his brow but he was here and alive and Tony was going to be okay. “Steve…” he repeated.

Those beautiful blue eyes snapped to his, and the sheer relief he saw flood into them was enough to soothe Tony into some semblance of peace. Steve had him…

He’d be alright…

He let his eyes close again.

Chapter Seven

Steve leaned back against the wall of their bedroom, eyes fixed on the sleeping form in their bed. He ran his fingers through the carpet fibres idly, his feet kicked out in front of him on the floor. Under his watchful eye, Tony’s chest rose and fell, his lashes soft against his cheeks, mouth slightly open. Steve picked up the mug next to his hip and sipped his rapidly-cooling coffee. He kept forgetting it was even there.

He would never stop being grateful to Natasha, Bucky, and Bruce for showing up when they did. As soon as they saw that the call-out had been for more of those horrible puppet robots, they’d turned back to the tower, leaving Clint, Thor, and Sam to handle the attack. They were halfway home, suspecting a diversion, when JARVIS relayed Steve’s plan, and they’d immediately followed the coordinates to meet him there. Steve’s heart still clenched painfully in his chest when he thought about what might have happened if they hadn’t arrived when they did. STRIKE had him. He’d been stupid and impulsive, and Tony had almost died.

Tony shifted and sighed in his sleep, then humphed. His eyes fluttered open and fell on Steve. He frowned. “What are you doing?” he croaked, one hand coming up to rub sleep out of his eyes. His knuckles were still red and scabbed.

“Just watching,” Steve said lightly.

Tony’s eyes narrowed at him. “You don’t have to watch me sleep, Steve. I’m fine.”

“I know.” Steve pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room, alighting on the side of the bed by Tony’s hip. “I wanted to.”

Tony groaned and rolled onto his back, one hand finding Steve’s thigh with unerring accuracy and stroking softly. “You could have watched me from over here.” He patted the bed next to him, and Steve crawled up, stretching out along Tony’s side and pulling him into his arms when he rolled onto Steve’s chest.

“Every time I come back to bed, you wake up. I can’t seem to get in without jostling you.”

“Steve. How long were you on the floor?”

Steve hummed. “Not long.”

Tony huffed again, then cut his breath off sharply as he shifted. Steve couldn't help his wince. Tony had been back for a week, but while Steve’s injuries had faded overnight, Tony had been slower to heal. He’d cracked a tooth from the electric shocks and a rib from Rumlow’s kicks. He was covered in bruises and scrapes, scabbing and fading now but still painful. Steve could tell that the worst of it was how sore and wiped out Tony felt. He’d slept for most of two entire days after they’d made it through SHIELD medical and into the tower. And awake, Tony winced and limped his way around the penthouse. More than once, Steve caught him leaning against the kitchen counter, eyes squeezed shut, breathing through the pain.

He was healing though—every day was better than the one before. Physically anyway…Steve wasn’t sure if he was healing otherwise. And he didn’t really know how to ask.

“Hungry?” Steve asked, but Tony only sighed. “Pill?”

“No.” Tony pushed himself up and stretched, his eyes pinching at the edges. “They make my brain fuzzy, and I need to work on the suit today.”

Steve tensed, and he felt Tony stiffen as well, in response. “Really? It can wait until you’re better.”

Tony picked at his fingernails then shot Steve a look. “How long were you on the floor, Steve?”

Their room was filled with tense silence.

“Two hours.”

“Fuck…” Tony rubbed his hands over his face then through his hair.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbled, not entirely sure what he was apologizing for, but feeling the need all the same.

“I’m better enough to be in the workshop, Steve. I need this.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it shut again. “Alright. But I’m staying with you.”

Getting down to the workshop took some time, but once Tony was settled at his desk, Steve could see him light up with interest. He dove into his work, running diagnostics on the suit, then working his way through the damaged electrical systems, one piece at a time.

“Hey, Steve, can you grab me the socket set?” Steve pushed up off the couch and padded over to the supply cupboard, pulling out the case and bringing it back to Tony’s desk. He set it down, and Tony leaned back in his chair, seemingly to thank him, but the words died on his lips. Steve became distinctly aware that they were having the same memory. Almost—god—a year ago, the two of them had been right here, in this very position. Tony’s shirt had been off, the arc reactor popped free, and he’d asked—told—Steve to take it apart and put it back together, better. Steve had held Tony’s heart in his hand that day, and today—

Tony’s eyes darkened, electricity flashing through them. “And the pliers.” His tone shuddered through Steve straight down to his toes. He wasn’t asking this time.

Steve collected the pliers and brought them back.

“Thank you,” Tony said this time, eyes locked on Steve’s. But he wasn’t saying thank you, he was saying good boy. Steve could feel it humming through him. Steve didn’t go back to the couch, hovering by Tony’s side instead, waiting to be needed again. As he stood, he let himself drift in a way he hadn’t since Tony had gone missing. For the first time, he didn’t feel the need to be on alert, ready to swoop in and put things back together. He felt comfortable, easy. If Tony needed something, he’d ask. Until then, Steve could wait.

“Swap this out with the same piece from the other side.” Tony’s voice broke through Steve’s haze, and he was moving before he’d even processed the words. He brought the repaired piece back to where the suit lay and returned with its twin. Tony caught Steve’s hand as he pulled it away, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

And so it went on. Tony worked his way through a solid portion of the suit, dipping into the laser-focus he only accessed for building the suit or taking Steve apart. Steve floated, sinking into easy pleasure, his hazy attention on nothing but Tony. When his legs got tired of standing, he sunk to his knees next to the chair, resting his cheek against Tony’s leg. Tony’s fingers brushed his hair every now and then.

He felt safe for the first time since he saw Iron Man fall.

“Okay.” Tony tossed aside the piece he was working on and pushed his chair away from the desk. “About a third there. Not bad.”

“Ready to go back upstairs?” Steve asked from his place on the floor. He felt the edges of his words and mind going fuzzy, and he hoped that Tony wouldn’t want to stand yet. It felt so nice to be here at his feet again, soft and floating.

“Mmm, soon.” Tony swiveled until Steve was nestled between his legs, still stroking his fingers through Steve’s hair. Steve leaned into the touch, nuzzling Tony’s palm with his cheek every time it passed by. Steve shifted off his leg, which was starting to fall asleep, and the movement pressed his cheek against Tony’s crotch. He was suddenly reminded of the fact that they hadn’t had sex in two weeks. And suddenly that was all he could think about, because Tony was clearly thinking about the same thing.

They’d gone from having sex at least once, but usually twice a day, to complete cold turkey while Tony was healing. The doctor had said “no physical activity or strain” and Steve had taken it to heart. But it was horrible waiting. At first, he’d been too distracted worrying and hovering to even think about it, but once Tony started healing, Steve’s body helpfully reminded him that he hadn’t been touched and—more importantly—that he hadn’t had his hands on Tony, in ages.

But now, Steve was floating in the happy hazy place that Tony could shift him into so easily, even without his collar, and he couldn’t resist rubbing his face against Tony’s rapidly hardening erection, breathing in the familiar scent of Tony’s sweat and skin.

“Ah, fuck, Steve.” Tony’s hand landed in his hair again, fingers scraping lightly against his scalp this time. Steve huffed hot breath against Tony’s cock, and even through two layers of clothing, Tony jumped.

They shouldn’t. Tony was still hurt. But Steve was riding high on helping Tony all day in the workshop, and the feeling of Tony’s fingers in his hair, and if he could just…“Can I suck you off?” he begged.

“Yes,” Tony hissed, his free hand snapping to his jeans so fast his breath hitched at the sudden movement.

Steve’s head cleared a little. “Are you sure?” The only answer he got was Tony’s fingers tightening almost painfully in his hair and his clear, brown gaze meeting Steve’s. Steve nodded, swallowing, and Tony opened his jeans the rest of the way and eased his cock out. Steve immediately sucked him down, keeping his eyes fixed on Tony’s so he could watching for pain there. But Tony didn’t tense, he did the opposite, sinking back in his chair with a happy sigh.

And if Steve could bring him some pleasure, some relief to help ease the pain, he would. He worked Tony slowly, knowing it wouldn’t take much after so long without, but wanting to draw the pleasure out a little, keep it easy and slow. His head was still pleasantly fuzzy, but now he had something to focus on besides drifting, and he put his all into it. Tasting Tony, feeling the slide of his hard cock over his tongue, swallowing around the head as he slid down as far as he could go, it was perfection—everything he had missed. His own cock was painfully hard in his pants, and he dropped one hand to press over it. The friction made him gasp, and Tony moaned at the sound, his fingers tightening again then loosening, clutching Steve’s hair and releasing. Steve picked up the pace, sucking Tony down deep, bracing one hand against Tony’s leg—careful to choose the one without the bruised ankle—while his other hand stroked his own cock through his pants.

Tony tensed, then groaned, and Steve’s mouth was filled the familiar bitter taste of Tony’s come. He swallowed as much as he could, not wanting to stain Tony’s pants when they still had to make their way back upstairs, then ruined it by coming hard in his own jeans anyway, grinding against the palm he had pressed to his cock. He panted through his orgasm, forehead pressed to Tony’s inner thigh, then looked up and met his eyes. Tony gazed down at him, eyes warm with affection, and it was the first time Steve really believed that everything was going to be alright.

Tony stroked the corner of Steve’s jaw with his thumb. “Thank you.”

Chapter Eight

When they had first returned to the penthouse, it was jarring how little had changed from before the Assemble. Steve hadn’t moved the collar from the dresser, and the surprise Tony had prepared for Steve still hid inside the ottoman by the bed. It was a distracting thought, as Tony sat on the couch nearly six weeks later.

Steve must have felt Tony stiffen, because he shifted under his hand. “Are you—?”

I'm fine," Tony repeated, as he'd needed to almost every day since he came home. He felt back to normal, nothing twinged when he turned, and he no longer ached. Steve still worried and Tony couldn’t blame him, all he could do was assure him whenever he asked.

Steve followed his gaze to the bedroom, the book in his hand long forgotten. “What is it then?”

“Remember, before the call out for the puppets, I’d mentioned—”

Steve nodded. “You said you had plans for me.” He swallowed, and Tony watched the tips of his cheeks turn pink. “I remember.”

Tony chuckled lightly. He knew that tone and that blush, and he knew he was gazing heatedly at Steve from the way he dropped his gaze and turned into Tony. “Sounds like you’ve thought about it more than once since the Assemble,” Tony teased.

“Maybe.” Steve shrugged, smiling. “Your surprises usually end with me having a good time, so...” He trailed off, shifting under Tony’s gaze, and a surge of want came over Tony like a physical force. He leaned forward and tilted Steve’s chin up until he could connect their lips in a kiss. He pulled back when he finally processed Steve’s words.

“Usually? I beg your pardon, Captain Loose-as-Jello because I just gave you a massage. I’ll have you know that my surprises will always end with you having a good time, because you Cap, look absolutely stunning when you’re blissed out, and why would I deprive myself of that sight? So yes, this surprise will certainly end with you having a good time. At least, that was the plan.”

“What’s the plan now?” Steve asked, and Tony’s cock hardened at the question because this was his Steve, always ready and willing to follow his lead.

“Take off your shirt.” He gave the order, not just to see Steve’s spectacular chest, but so that Steve’s eyes would darken, so that he would take a breath and settle under Tony’s command. It was thrilling, the way Steve yielded to him, every time.

Steve sat up on the couch, removed his shirt with a practiced ease and waited for Tony, gazing up from under his lashes. He was so beautiful, so comfortable and familiar and home.

“I love you.” He said the words because they were true and because he could, he was alive another day to love Steve, to take Steve. Steve whose eyes had never left his, who said, "I love you, too," like it was a prayer. Tony took a breath. “Go into the ottoman by the bed and bring me what you find there.”

Steve lifted from the couch with a beautiful grace, the muscles of his back dancing as he walked into their bedroom. “Leave your pants in the bedroom. And bring your collar out too,” Tony added when Steve was at the threshold. He paused by the door, gave the tiniest of smiles back at Tony over his shoulder before continuing into the bedroom.

He returned a moment later with the ½” jute ropes Tony had designed with a serum-resistant threading. They were coiled and fell over the edges of Steve’s hands as he held them out like an offering but with a quizzical expression on his face.

Tony’s first thought was that Steve was remembering the warehouse, the electric ropes that had tied Tony up, that had knocked Steve down. Tony’s breath caught and his pulse raced as he waited for Steve’s expression to turn to horror or worse, disgust.

Instead he surprised Tony with a single word. “Blue?”

It took Tony a moment to realize he was talking about the color of the ropes. The turn in the conversation warmed some of the cold that had creeped in at the thought of the warehouse, and his hand was steady when he reached out for the ropes. Steve passed them over, before coming to kneel in front of where Tony sat on the sofa. His hands clasped behind his back, loose around his collar, while he waited for Tony to speak.

“Yes, blue.” Tony considered the ropes, remembering the hours in the workshop he spent braiding the fibers. “Why so surprised?”

“Everything you make for me is red and gold, they’re all...you know, your colors. I like it, being restrained or, or blindfolded, or—” he broke off, licking his lips “—or plugged, with your colors.”

“I like it too,” Tony said, voice rough because hearing Steve say how much he loved being owned by Tony was enough to derail his memories of the warehouse, at least for the moment. The ropes felt different than the ones that had pierced into his own screaming wrists. He wrapped the coil around his fist, seeing the blue cover his knuckles, falling across his wrist where Rumlow’s black ropes had tied too tight. But the blue was his. His ropes, his Steve.

He looked up to where Steve sat, waiting, beautiful and patient, his breath coming out unsteady as he watched Tony wrap the rope around his own skin.

“They’re blue because of your eyes.” Tony connected their gazes. “Blue because of the contrast the color makes across your skin.” Tony stood from the couch, his free hand coming to Steve’s shoulder, running his fingers along his neck. “They’re blue because the red and gold of your collar will pop so beautifully against them.” Steve shuddered at his words and leaned into him, pressing his forehead against Tony’s thigh and they stood there for a moment enjoying the feel of one another.  

Behind Steve’s back, the collar was waiting in an open fist for Tony to take, and he didn’t want to wait another moment to have it back around Steve’s neck.

“Are you sure about this?” Tony asked, because they’d done things like thing before, bindings and chains and restraints, but the ropes were new, and now, after everything…Ropes were different, if they let them be.

“Are you sure about this?” Steve replied. “It was you that—”

“It was you too.” Tony’s chest felt like it was in his throat. “And you had to watch—” Tony clenched his jaw, took a calming breath and let the tension release. “I want this. It won’t be the same as that. It can’t be. What we have is more than toys and scenes and ropes. It’s the...spirit, behind it all. It won’t be the same because that was fucking Rumlow and fucking torture. And this is us, this is you. I want this. But only if you want it too.”

Steve eyes were wide but he remained by Tony’s side, on his knees. He raised his wrists to Tony in an offering and an answer.

Tony reached down for the collar, its familiar weight anchoring him as much as it did Steve, then he lowered to kneel by Steve’s side. He heard Steve gasp when the collar touched his collarbone. He wanted it, Tony’s claim around his neck, and seeing the physical effects of that want - Steve’s panting breath, his dilated pupils - It made Tony want to slow down, revel in the moment instead of rush through it.

And here with Steve, Tony would get what he wanted.

Steve’s tongue shot out to swipe at his lips when Tony kissed Steve’s wrist. Then Tony took his hand and brought it around to rest along the middle of his back. He grabbed his other arm, and moved it so it rested on top, side by side in a box across Steve’s back.

“Stay.”

Steve followed the order beautifully, and Tony looped the end of the rope and threaded it around Steve’s forearms three times before securing it with a knot. He placed a finger between the knot and Steve’s skin, because these ropes could cut off circulation if that was what Tony wanted - he had made sure of it - but it wasn’t what he wanted now.

Now, he wanted Steve at ease, in a position he could sit comfortably for Tony for hours. He pulled the end of the rope and wrapped it around Steve’s shoulders and pecs once, then twice. His fingers brushed along Steve chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Tony pulled the rope taut then looped it behind the rope that secured his arms, pulling it into the knot on his forearms. The ropes tightened, and Steve shuddered, letting a moan escape his lips.

Tony was eager to see the end result, could picture it already, arms tied behind his back, chest out and back arched beautifully. He sped through the ropes that tied around the bottom of his pecs, then walked around him to move to his legs. Steve was already in position, kneeling with his thighs on his calves, but Tony’s hands itched to touch him, tease him. He slipped his hands between Steve’s thighs, high enough so that the side of his finger brushed the bottom of Steve’s balls. Steve yelped, eyes springing open with surprise, and he smiled, breathless towards Tony.

“So responsive.” Tony dragged his hand against his inner thigh. “Spread your legs apart darling, let me have some room to touch you.” Steve’s legs fell open, and Tony reached for the other ropes. “Wider.” Steve spread his legs as he was told, and Tony could see the tightness of his balls where they pulled up against his cock, and Steve looked amazing but Tony wanted to make him flush and squirm a bit. “Wider.” He let his voice come out with a trace of edge and Steve reacted, arching against the ropes that held his arms together and leveraging the momentum to spread his legs even wider.

“Good boy.” Tony ran his hand up and down Steve’s thigh then slid the rope around Steve’s leg so that it rested like a garter, high on his leg. He tied it around his thigh and above his ankle, feeling Steve tense and shudder as he maneuvered him. “Now the other side,” Tony whispered.

He ran his hand from the rope around his knee, up along his inner thigh to wrap, lightly, around Steve’s cock and stroked, once, before bringing the rope up and tying his other leg. Tony stood back to admire his work.

The box tie that secured Steve’s arms displayed his chest and highlighted each of his panting breaths. His legs were open for Tony, his cock twitching, untouched.

Tony wanted to touch Steve everywhere. He circled Steve, ran his hand around his shoulders, over his pecs, tugging at the ropes to make Steve bend into a searing kiss. These ropes were his, Steve was his. He fell to his knees behind Steve, wrapping his arms around his front to stroke his cock roughly. “Can’t touch yourself, my love. I’ll have to do it for you.”

Steve writhed in his arms as much as the rope allowed, his head lolling back to rest on Tony’s shoulder. “Yes,” he whimpered into Tony’s ear. “Yours. Can’t do anything, Tony. Just feel. Helpless for you.”

And he was helpless, this beautiful man, he chose to be tied for Tony, tied to Tony. “I’ll make you feel so good, yes.” His hand sped on Steve’s cock. “I want you to get filthy, come all over your blue ropes, come in my hand.” Steve let out a string of moans. Tony bit down on his neck and that pushed Steve over the edge.

“So beautiful.” Tony thrust a few times into the damp skin of Steve’s back while he recovered, before pulling him down by the ropes to lay him on the rug. Steve sprawled back on his elbows with his tied legs splayed. “Rest like that, my sweet.” Tony brushed a light hand over his stomach, delighted in the way the muscles danced under his fingertips. The other hand wrapped around his own cock, stroking fast.

Steve looked up at him, eyelids heavy, and he looked like he was floating in pleasure, had been long before his orgasm. Steve’s jaw fell open, and it took Tony a moment to realize what the gesture meant. “You want my cock, Steve?” Tony was already moving onto his knees, positioning himself so that he could trace his cockhead over Steve’s lips.

“Yes, Tony,” Steve whispered against the tip. Steve’s tongue flicked out, and Tony pushed his cock up against his lips, letting Steve mouth along the length, his breath hot on his skin.

“Fuck, Steve.” His hand came down to rest against Steve’s collar, and Tony knew Steve couldn’t move, bound by the criss-crossing blue ropes, waiting for Tony to grab his cock and fill his mouth. He pushed his cock between Steve’s lips, fucking his mouth gently, moving further in with every thrust. When he hit the back of Steve’s throat, Steve moaned and swallowed, trying to take even more. “So good, so good my love,” he continued his litany of praise, and his unrelenting pace, until he felt himself getting close, then he pulled out and stroked until he came over Steve’s face, over the ropes, and across his nipples. He continued stroking, forcing another stripe of come out over Steve’s lap and across the blue that bound his upper thigh. When he was finally done painting the man with his come, he fell to the side facing Steve. “Perfect, just perfect,” he whispered through a rough breath as his eyes raked over Steve. “These ropes, I love.”

“Me too.” Steve grinned, loose and free and falling into Tony.

Tony caught him with a kiss.

Chapter Text

“Yeah, it’ll be a year in March!” Steve grinned sappily over at Tony then frowned when he saw Tony’s furrowed brow.

“March?” Tony asked.

Bruce shrunk back. “I’m going to regret asking that, aren’t I?”

“Eeeyup,” Clint said from the couch.

“March?” Tony repeated. “You think our anniversary is in March?”

Steve shuffled, turning away a little from the others. “Well, yeah. March 8th.” He tried to beam the memory into Tony’s brain, but Tony was just staring at him. “We went, um, out. Dancing…the night before. And then the next day, you said, you know. That you were mine.”

Tony softened a little. “Really? That’s what you consider our anniversary? I mean, sure, we didn't actually have the exclusivity talk before that, but we were still dating.”

“I guess…I just don’t know where else to count it from.”

Tony considered Steve for a moment. “February 20th.”

“What happened on February 20th?”

Tony’s lips twitched into a smirk, and Steve swallowed hard, feeling the tips of his ears blush pink. Tony hooked a finger in Steve’s jacket pocket and tugged him close. He leaned up and pressed his lips to Steve’s ear. Steve’s heart hammered in his chest, his memory trying desperately to remember which wild, debauched, dirty thing Tony was thinking of. “I found you, on a park bench, giving the fountain the Steve Rogers modesty touch, and I told you I wanted to be able to touch you whenever I wanted. And you said yes.” He hissed out a puff of warm air with the last word, and it shot straight to Steve’s core.

It took him a moment to steady himself, pulling back a little because they were in a room with Bruce and Clint and somehow Tony had made that as head-spinning and gut-twisting as it had been the first time around.

“What about your first kiss?” Bruce offered from his chair by the window. “That’s a nice anniversary.”

“Or the first time you did more than kiss,” Clint said, tipping his head over the back of the couch to smirk at them.

Steve shot him a disapproving look, but Tony tipped his head in consideration. “Hey, J. When was our first kiss?”

“February 18th.”

“And the—” Steve cut Tony off with a glare. “The, um, camera day,” Tony finished carefully. Clint snorted from the couch, and Steve gave up on suppressing the blush that was breaking up his neck like a wildfire.

“February 25th,” JARVIS answered, his voice tactfully neutral. Steve wondered if the AI had to roll through their collection of home videos to find the dates, or if he knew them in some other way.

“I guess it depends if you want it to be sooner or later,” Bruce said with a shrug.

Steve turned to Tony and found him looking at him. He honestly wasn’t sure. He’d always thought of the 8th as when he really got Tony, but it was true, he had him before that, he just didn’t know it yet. Or wasn’t sure yet. Looking back, with what he knew now, it was painfully obvious that Tony had jumped in this with both feet from the start—but when was the start?

The elevator door opened, and Natasha breezed in, a book and a mug in her hands. She stopped in the doorway when they all turned to look at her.

“What?”

“We’re trying to figure out when Steve and Tony’s anniversary is,” Clint offered from the couch.

“It’s this Friday,” Natasha said without hesitation, settling at the table with her book and mug.

Steve gaped at her. “What?”

“So soon?” Tony asked.

Nat raised a cool eyebrow at them. “Yes. It’s February 2nd. We had that mission in Brazil with that crazy guy and the—” Nat made a gesture with her arm, and they all nodded. “And Steve, apparently, noticed for the first time how hot Tony is, and the two of you were eye-fucking on the quinjet all the way back to New York. I don’t give a shit if you didn’t touch for another six years—that’s when it all started.”

Nat caught Steve’s eye and then dropped her gaze down to Tony’s wrist and back up to Steve. His breath hitched, and he struggled to control his expression. Nat picked up her book, and Steve turned to Tony, slowly rolling his eyes up his chest and to his face. When Steve finally reached them, Tony’s eyes were dark and his jaw was tight.

They both remembered it—the way Steve had noticed the cuff around Tony’s wrist, the chain binding it to the suitcase. How their eyes had met, and Tony had smirked; he’d known then. Steve had no idea back then, what he was falling into, but if he was honest with himself, Nat was right. He’d jumped off a cliff that day with no parachute, and the rest was all inevitable, really.

“Friday?” Tony managed to breathe out, and Steve nodded slowly. Then Tony grinned, the smile spreading slowly across his face. He reached out and grabbed Steve’s hand, then deftly slipped his hand up until his fingers circled Steve’s wrist lightly. His grin darkened, deepened, and Steve felt arousal throb low in his gut. “We should have a party.”

**

“You know, Stark. Non-married couples don’t normally have anniversary parties,” Clint said around his hot pink crazy straw.

“Yeah, well I’m not normal.” Tony shot a wink to Steve then pushed his sunglasses up his nose. “And we have a lot to celebrate this year, Legolas.”

“Well, I’m happy for any excuse to use a fancy straw.” Clint grinned, teeth clenching around the plastic.

“Of course you are,” Tony said to Clint, before Steve felt Tony’s hand slip into his. Tony led them towards the dance floor, stopping to stand at the edge.

Steve watched Thor sway Jane to the live band’s rendition of “At Last.” Pepper and Rhodey were dancing too. Nat stood on the other side of the dance floor, swaying to the music.

And there was something about having them all here, at the club where he and Tony had first danced, that made him marvel at how far they’d come as a couple.

Tony leaned in close, and Steve suppressed a shudder. “You looked absolutely edible under the lights that night back in March. Everyone wanted their hands on you, and what did you want?”

Steve knew what Tony wanted him to say, and Steve always wanted to give him everything he wanted. Steve stepped close, brought his lips to Tony’s ear, slipping a nuzzle against his cheek because they could, because everyone here was a friend and the whole world knew about them now. He nuzzled again. “I wanted you, Tony. Wanted you to watch if you wanted, to come and cut in when you wanted.”

“Yeah,” Tony whispered back, the puff of his words against Steve’s lips. “You liked being on display for me. God, you’re filthy, how you’ll do anything for me.”

He would. Anything. Steve’s fingers twitching in Tony’s hold, eager to touch somewhere less innocent. “Yes, Ton—”

“Rich people food!” Clint stormed passed them, to where the kitchen staff was coming out of swinging doors with tray after tray of food, taking up four whole tables. There was a meat carving station and a mini salad bar with more balls of cheese than Steve had ever seen in his life. Shrimp cocktail, and his stomach rumbled at the sight of deep fried mac n cheese balls.

Clint had jostled Steve further into Tony’s arms on his way to the food, but Tony hadn’t even seemed to bother looking up at Clint or at the food. He was looking at Steve, and when Steve met his gaze, Tony kissed him and held him even tighter in his arms. Steve felt his face flush, but he took a deep breath. Their friends were all around them, and it was proving harder than he thought to keep his erection at bay, especially with the weight of his collar against his thigh.

“Hey boys,” Nat crowed as she walked up to them. “Having a good evening?”

Tony turned Steve in his arms so that they both faced Natasha, and Steve tingled like he always did whenever Tony manhandled him. Steve rested his head on Tony’s shoulder, and he knew his smile was dopey, but he couldn’t be bothered to put on a façade. “The best.”

Nat snorted, ran an affectionate hand over Steve’s hair, and smirked towards Tony. “His collar is in his pocket, isn’t it?”

Tony chuckled, and Steve felt relaxed enough, between Tony’s arms and Nat’s knowing smile, to nod to Nat. “That it is.”

“Cheeky,” she said, patting his chest and Tony’s arm before heading towards the food.

“I’m glad we did this,” Steve said. “Even if non-married couples don’t normally have anniversary parties,” he teased, just to watch the lights dance in Tony’s eyes as he growled and pulled Steve in for a quick kiss.

“Keep talking like that,” Tony said, pulling away from Steve’s lips, “And you’re asking for trouble.”

A jolt of anticipation shot to Steve’s core at the thought of what kind of “trouble” Tony might give him. “You like me devious,” Steve reminded him.

“Well, we both know that’s true.” Tony pulled their bodies flush together again, before stepping away just as fast and turning to lead them to the food. Steve nearly whined at the loss of contact, and Tony turned to look at him over his shoulder, like he could read Steve’s mind. “Come on and feed yourself, or I’m going to have to do it for you.”

Steve almost stumbled in his step but managed to say, “Okay,” with an even voice, and he was surprised to see a light blush tint Tony’s cheeks.

“I thought about doing that, one time,” Tony confessed.  “But we hadn’t even kissed, and how do you ask to feed someone you haven’t even tasted yet?”

Steve counted to ten and grabbed them plates to distract himself from the sudden rush of blood to his cock. “With the pizza?” Steve asked, handing a plate to Tony before putting some puff pastries that looked to be stuffed with meat on his own. “A bunch of the team was there, right? And—well, you know, I knelt by your feet for the first time.”

Tony leaned in to put some steak he’d sliced on Steve’s plate. “That’s the one,” he said into the space between them. No one was nearby to hear, but Steve felt a little rush at talking so openly in front of the others about their private lives, but why should he? This was a night for them.

“I remember…” Steve couldn’t pull his gaze away from Tony’s. He remembered everything they’d done together, every touch, every command, and it was like he could feel every one of those moments on his skin now. Ghosts of whips and fingers, chains and lips danced over him like a lightshow until he was wound tight and halfway to desperate already.

When Steve stopped moving, caught up in his memories, Tony took his plate and filled it for him then led him over to mingle with their friends at nearby tables. They chatted, though Steve found he could barely focus on the conversation, forgetting his food entirely as his attention narrowed into Tony-only tunnel vision. He slipped his hand in his pocket and stroked his thumb over the leather and vibranium braid.

Soon everyone was full, and full of alcohol, and following the music towards the dance floor. But Tony held back, leaning one hip against the table, and Steve stayed with him, caught in Tony’s orbit. Tony’s eyes fell to Steve’s full plate, then he lifted a stuffed mushroom between two fingers and held it out in offer. Steve’s mouth fell open, and Tony placed the food on his tongue, eyes locked together. Knowing Tony would take care of his needs let Steve close his eyes and revel in the snap of mushroom flavor, the creamy cheese, and the soft slide of Tony’s fingers over his lips. Tony worked his way through the entire plate until Steve was warm and fed and sinking even deeper into the small, cozy centre of his world where everything was Tony.

The music changed, and as the tempo picked up so did the dancing. Tony watched the swaying, laughing, twirling group with a soft smile on his face. Clint and Darcy were cutting a swathe through the dancefloor, and Bucky must have had a bit too much whiskey—which was a lot for him—because his hands were all over Nat’s waist.

“Done?” Tony asked, and when Steve nodded, he grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the dance floor to join the others. Tony made a show of it, twirling Steve for a moment, but then they settled back into each other’s embrace and started to sway to the music. On the small of his back, Tony’s hand led them in a neat circle, proficient, and Steve settled easily into Tony’s lead, floating into the calm that flushed through him whenever Tony took control of him.

It wasn’t long before Tony shifted them out of the center of the mass of dancing bodies and to the darkened edge of the dance floor. “How are you feeling, love?” Tony asked softly.

“Perfect,” Steve breathed, dimly surprised at how hard it had become to move his tongue.

Tony’s hip ground against Steve’s, pushing the collar against his thigh and making his breath catch. “The things I want to do to you…I should have plugged you up again, should have been driving you crazy all night with my finger on a button.”

Steve groaned. “You’re driving me crazy anyway.”

“What do you want when we get home? Cuffs? Chains? I could make you feel my crop or maybe make you wait until I’ve covered you in as much of my come as I want before I get you off.”

“Tony...” The temperature in the club skyrocketed as Tony murmured into Steve’s ear.

“Maybe you want me to take you by the hair and fuck your mouth until I’m satisfied, but leave you panting, begging, wanting.”

The thrill of having such an intense, private moment while surrounded by their friends was tipping Steve off his axis. At any moment, someone could call them over, demand their attention, and as heady as the potential humiliation of being caught out was, knowing that Tony would handle it, handle him, protect him, settled him again. “I want it all,” he managed to say and Tony’s arms tightened around him.

“You’ll have it all, darling, but tonight we’re staying here until the last guest has gone home.”

**

By the time they were in the elevator at the tower, headed up towards the penthouse, Steve was so on edge he could hardly breathe. Tony’s hands danced all over him, pulling his shirt out of his waistband, undoing a few buttons, tracing the curve of his neck with one finger. And he was still talking.

“You were so good for me, baby, so patient.” Tony worked the rest of the buttons open. The elevator chimed, and Tony dragged Steve with him by his shirt, as he walked backwards into the penthouse. “The things I want to do to you…”

“Tony,” Steve whined, letting himself be dragged into their bedroom. He was rock hard, had been since the last guest had slipped out of the door, and yet he was so overwhelmed by Tony’s laser-focus on him that he wasn’t even sure he could handle being touched, as badly as he wanted it. “I—I need—” He was slipping already, dipping down into a haze of words and Tony’s hands and promise.

Tony shoved Steve’s shirt to the floor and tugged at his belt. “God, you’re so gorgeous. A year in, and that never gets old. I will never get sick of looking at you.”

“Nugh—” Steve was dizzy, lightheaded. He felt drunk even though he knew he couldn’t be. But he was—drunk on Tony. A whole year he’d had this wonderful man in his life. He watched Tony strip off his own clothes, and he was overcome with the need to thank him, for giving him all of this, for showing him a kind of love he didn’t even know he could feel.

Finally naked, Tony caught Steve’s eye and smiled. “Steve—” but hearing his name fall off those lips was all he could bear; Steve fell to his knees. His body hummed with the rightness of being here, at Tony’s feet. It felt like it took an hour to rake his gaze up from the floor to find Tony’s face. He was wide-eyed, lips parted.

Tony reached out a rested two fingers on the edge of Steve’s jaw. “What’s your safeword, sweetheart?”

“Colonel,” Steve mumbled. It felt like he had to dredge the word up from somewhere deep inside him.

“Good boy.” Steve thrummed under the praise. “Is this too much? Are you okay?” Tony’s voice was so soft it took Steve a moment to parse through the words, floating in the gentleness of the sound.

“I—” He didn’t know how to say it except for, “I love you, Tony.”

Tony crouched down in front of him and stroked the pad of his thumb along his cheek. “I love you too.”

“Please touch me,” Steve begged.

“Of course.” Tony let his fingers fall to Steve’s neck, drawing a line over Steve’s throat that his collar would have followed, but instead of taking it out of the pocket of Steve’s discarded pants, he eased him up to his feet and on to the bed. Tony guided Steve onto his back, stretched out across the sheets. He mapped out a constellation of kisses up Steve’s thighs and over his stomach.

Steve let out a long, shuddering breath and sunk into the touch. The wild, burning need that Tony had lit within him at the party softened to a warm glow in his core, radiating from every place that Tony’s mouth or fingers landed.

He took his time, working his way up over Steve’s hip, across his stomach, and over his ribs. “You’re so beautiful,” Tony murmured. “So good for me.” There was a distant click then Tony eased Steve’s leg up, hooking his hand under his knee and pushing until it bent. Slick fingers found Steve’s hole, and Steve arched into the touch, shivering. The glowing embers crackled and blazed as Tony worked him open, robbing Steve’s breath and pushing him back towards desperate. But just when he felt he couldn't take any more, Tony was there, pressing his cock into him in one slick, slow slide, stretching Steve out, filling him up. “You okay?” Tony asked, biting his lip as a groan rumbled out of his chest.

“Yes, Tony,” was all Steve could say, maybe all he could ever say. He was more than okay, he was perfect.

Tony’s hands found each of Steve’s wrists and circled them, just the way the cuffs did, but soft and warm and human. He pressed them into the pillow above Steve’s head, using the leverage to curve Steve into the perfect shape to slide deep inside him with every roll of his hips. Tony was talking again, whispering praises in Steve’s ear, but he couldn’t make out the words anymore, just the shape: the pleasure of hearing he was good, the utter calm of knowing he was safe, owned.

Steve’s pleasure built with every thrust, and when he reached the peak, he held on, waiting, coiled, until Tony pressed his lips to Steve’s and said, “Come for me.”

He broke like a window shattering, unable to catch his breath as wave after wave drowned him. Tony kissed him through his orgasm, never altering his pace, somehow punishing, even as slow and steady as it was. Just when Steve thought his vision would white out from overstimulation, Tony pulled back, running a soothing hand over Steve’s chest as it heaved with gasping breaths.

Tony rolled them over, spooning Steve from behind, and for a moment, Tony seemed more focused on wrapping his arms around him, nuzzling into the back of his neck. “I love you.” He bit at his nape. “Feel so good.” He kissed behind his ear. “All night, Steve, you looked so happy.” A noise came from deep in Tony’s chest, almost a growl. “I love when you’re happy, Steve, so beautiful—” Tony pushed back inside and cut himself off with a gasp.

Steve was surrounded by Tony, his arms, his scent, the lingering afterglow tingling under his skin, the feel of him moving deep inside him. Steve grabbed Tony’s arm where it curved around his neck and buried his face in Tony’s skin. He could tell Tony wouldn’t last long, the evening of flirting and touching and bringing Steve off building quickly with each increasingly frantic thrust. He fell over the edge with a string of mine, mine, mine on his lips. And Steve pressed yours, yours, yours into Tony’s arm.

Time passed as they caught their breath in each other's arms, pressing soft kisses into the crevices of each others bodies. “I can’t believe it’s been a year.” Steve managed to breathe out against Tony’s skin. “It feels like forever and a day at the same time.”

Tony stroked his fingers in a long line up Steve’s spine. His breath ghosted across Steve’s cheek. “Here’s to another year, my love.”

Chapter Text

There was a briefcase Tony held sometimes. He used it when they assembled, or when he had a particularly precarious board meeting to attend. It was easy, on the go, Iron Man red with a chain around the handlebar, the other end secured around his wrist. And that was all it was. Until one day it wasn’t.

Steve.

Captivated and open, Steve stared at the briefcase, and in his reaction, Tony found the beginning of their story. He saw Steve’s desire, his yearning, and Tony imagined for the first time what it would be like to claim him.

And claim him he had.

Every single way Tony imagined - to cuff him and to mark him, to bring him to his knees and chain him to the bed, to fill his mind with orders and his body with pleasure - Tony had done it. Steve was his.

Now, under Tony’s watchful eye, Steve blushed. He was on the other end of the sofa in boxers and a t-shirt, his hands wrapped around Tony’s feet, all his focus on the massage he was giving. Tony let a moan slip out when a sure finger pressed into a sore spot, and Steve beamed in triumph.

His.

And it wasn’t the collar or the ropes that made that true, it was because Steve chose to stay, every day, by his side and in his life. Chose to link their lives together like a pair of cuffs connected by a metal chain.

Tony pulled his feet from Steve’s hand, tucked them under him so he could crawl up Steve’s sprawled out body, because he could, because he wanted, and he knew Steve wanted him too. He felt Steve’s cock twitch against the fabric of his boxers, as if reaching towards Tony, always so responsive.

He slid his hands up Steve’s chest, lingering over the bite he’d left on his hip earlier, then over his nipples through the fabric, enjoying in a leisurely way how Steve melted under him at the feel of their bodies coming together as one.

Tony’s.

Steve’s.

Held.

Art by the lovely PortraitoftheOddity