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xwinterdreams-blog · 2 years

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Keep Me Company

Team Fuck fill for @stevetonygames square "Touch-Starved"

Looking to have a word with Stark, Timely’s resident inventor/blacksmith/drunk, Sheriff Rogers strode into the local saloon, expecting to find him there drowning himself in a bottle of whiskey or two—as he was most every night—but alas, no Stark.

He walked over to the bar, and he’d hardly placed his fist atop the counter when the barman spoke, “You just missed ‘im.”

Steve frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Stark. He ambled outta here ‘bout fifteen minutes ago.”

His frown deepened. He wondered what it said about him that the barman knew who he was looking for before he even had the chance to ask. They weren’t that close.

Steve wouldn’t even say they were friends. They argued as often as not, over differing world views and differing opinions on how much drinking, and at what time of day, constituted reasonable.

Steve thought Stark was cynical and lackadaisical. Stark probably thought he was a naive simpleton.

But there was something about Stark that drew Steve in. An inexplicable pull to stand next to Stark at the bar, so that they could engage in their usual repartee. The man had a sharp tongue and a devastating wit even while three sheets to the wind.

Shaking off his musings, Steve nodded at the barman before he left the saloon. What now? Back to his cold, lonely bed for the night?

Maybe he’d stop by Stark's place before he went home. Just to… check in. Talking to him was a part of his daily routine, that was all. Steve liked his routines.

——————

“Stark?” He called out, pushing open the door.

Silence.

He should just go home.

Steve walked inside. He made his way through the shop into Stark’s workshop, figuring he’d find him in there if he was still awake. Stepping inside he discovered that Stark was there, but he wasn’t awake.

Stark was sprawled on the wooden floorboards, a bottle of whiskey inches away from his hand, the remnants of which were spilling out onto the floor.

Steve sighed. He should probably just leave him to it, but when Stark groaned, Steve couldn’t do it. He walked over to him and crouched down near his head. “Why do ya do this to yerself, Stark?”

He reached one hand under his neck and the other under his back, lifting, pulling, dragging Stark into standing.

Stark groaned and mumbled, leaning heavily against Steve but otherwise not rising to consciousness. Steve pulled him over to the cot bed in the corner. He dropped him down as carefully as he could, but he still thumped down a little. It didn’t seem to bother Stark much.

Kneeling down at Stark’s side, Steve brushed his wayward black locks out of his eyes. What was it about this man? He pulled his hand away and Tony whimpered, moving his head, searching for Steve’s hand.

Steve placed his hand back on Tony’s head, sifting his fingers through the soft strands of his hair.

“Mmm, thaas nice…” Tony slurred before falling back to sleep.

Steve couldn’t stop his smile, he also couldn’t pull himself away and leave like he really should. He liked this. Comforting Tony. Seeing this uninhibited side of him devoid of his usual carefree mask. He looked softer than Steve had ever seen him before.

“No! No! Stop! That’s not what they were for! I never wanted… No!” Tony’s placid features scrunched up in dismay.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve shook Tony’s arm, trying to wake him out of whatever bad dream he was having. “Stark!”

“Huh? Wha? Steve?”

“Hey there.”

“What are you doing here?” He looked around at his position on the cot, dislodging Steve’s hand which Tony eyed curiously, before settling back on Steve. “You helped me into bed and stroked my hair… thought that was a dream, too.”

“Ah… no.” Steve mumbled, feeling a bit awkward. “I just came to…” see you? He shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“My hero.”

Steve rolled his eyes, looking anywhere but at Stark’s teasing eyes. “I guess I better—”

“Stay.” Stark’s hand landed on Steve’s arm before he could move, and he felt it like a brand on his skin, even through his shirtsleeve. How long had it been since he’d felt the intimate touch of another on his skin?

Too long. Timely was a lonely town for a man who enjoyed a very specific kind of company. The male kind.

His gaze shot to Tony, and the look in his eyes was no longer teasing. They were alight with such fervency, Steve could not suppress his gasp. Oftentimes Tony’s eyes were glazed, apathetic, annoyed. Never this heated. This urgent.

“Keep me company for the night, Sheriff. Keep the bad dreams at bay,” Tony said it with a hint of amusement, but Steve sensed the sentiment was real. Tony was hurting, from what he didn’t know. But the Civil War had been horrendous, everyone had memories they wished they could suppress, Steve certainly did. No doubt Tony did as well.

He didn’t use guns anymore, that probably had something to do with it. But Steve had never heard the story before. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked carefully.

Tony shook his head. “I don’t want to talk. Not tonight, anyway. I want the same thing as you. The thing we’ve both been wanting, building up to, for months. Don’t deny it.”

Steve couldn’t. Something had been happening lately. Underneath the barbed conversations, something had been growing. Desire. Need. Affection.

Steve climbed up from his knees and Tony pulled him down on top of him before he even had a chance to move. He tumbled down onto him and Tony made an oof sound as Steve knocked the air out of him, but then he was grinning, and then they were kissing.

Tony fumbled between their bodies to undo the buttons on Steve’s waistcoat while Steve attacked Tony’s. They made quick—if slightly awkward—work of removing each other’s waistcoats, shirts, loose ties and Tony’s jacket. Then their chests were completely bare, and Steve took his time tracing every inch of Tony’s firm chest, compact muscles, and dark trail of hair leading down into his slacks.

“You are—oof—” Steve spluttered in shock at Tony who had grabbed him round the waist and flipped him over onto his back, taking him completely by surprise.

“You were saying?” Tony hovered above Steve, hands pressed to the bed on either side of Steve’s head, grinning ear to ear with satisfaction.

Steve stared at him slack-jawed for a moment before he managed to gather his composure. “I’m surprised you could even make that move, Stark. Given the state I found you in.”

“I’m a very functional drunk, my liver’s used to it by now. My mind is perfectly clear.” Tony lowered his body, purposefully pressing every inch against Steve. “I think we’ve graduated to a first name basis by now, wouldn’t you say?”

He had a point, Steve had been thinking of him as Tony more and more, addressing him as Stark was just habitual at this point. “I suppose I could call you Tony.”

“Mm,” Tony grunted, thrusting his hips against Steve, his hard flesh confined by his pants pressing up against Steve’s own. “I like that. You sayin’ my name. As many fantasies as I have about callin’ you Sheriff, I like to be on a first name basis with the man I’m about to fuck.”

That brought Steve up short. “Who says you’re doing the fucking?”

“Why, do you want inside me, Sheriff?” Tony leaned down to nibble on Steve’s ear, and he squirmed. “Or is it just pride?”

“Just mighty presumptuous of you, that’s all.” Steve grumbled.

“Aha.” Tony chuckled against Steve’s skin. He started pressing kisses along Steve’s cheekbone, lifting his face to meet Steve’s gaze. “Would you be ever so kind, good sir, as to allow me the honour of gaining entrance to thine aperture?”

Steve tried not to laugh. He really, really did. The man was ridiculous. Utterly. But his lips twitched, a smirk broke out, and then a full-bellied laugh burst out of him. He shook his head in exasperated amusement. Tony looked pleasantly surprised at Steve’s good humour.

“Very polite of you, I accept.”

Tony leaned forward to kiss Steve but he pressed his fingers against his lips, stopping him in his tracks.

“And would you extend the same courtesy, some other time?”

“Think there’ll be another time, do you?”

“I don’t see why not. My bed is cold and empty every night, wouldn’t say no to the pleasure of your company.”

“Mmm, nor would I.” Tony leaned down again and this time Steve let him, meeting him for a deep and passionate kiss. “I have a fantasy about a certain Sheriff bending me over his Sheriff desk, if that interests you at all.”

“That would be… highly inappropriate.”

Tony simply stared at Steve. Waiting.

“Maybe.” He scowled, but he couldn’t deny the flush of arousal he felt at that scenario. “But I want you in my bed first,” he said stubbornly.

“Don’t you know, Steven? You can have me any time, any place.” With that sly remark, Tony climbed off the bed pulling off his shoes and shucking off his pants before wandering away.

Steve’s eyes tracked his bare ass and legs for a moment, before he pulled off his own trousers.

When Tony came back he had a bottle of liquid in his hand. “Oil.” He said, shaking it with a suggestive grin on his face.

Steve spread his legs and lifted his arms above his head. “I’m at your mercy.”

“Well, well, well. How about that.” Tony clambered onto the bed, and Steve sunk into the pleasure of his touch. It had been such a long time since he’d been touched this way, and never with such gentle care, nor had it ever made him feel so responsive.

But every calloused-roughened touch of Tony’s hands lit Steve on fire. He was nothing but moans and encouragements for more, more, more until Tony was sliding into him and he could finally breathe.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Tony asked, waiting for Steve’s nod before he started a steady pace of deep thrusts.

Steve wrapped his legs around Tony, sunk his fingers into Tony’s hair, and held on for the ride as his movements grew faster, and pleasure built into an inferno.

“Fuck you feel… wonderful.” Tony panted against his neck.

“Right back at ya, fella.”

“Is that what I am now, huh? Your fella?”

“If you want.” Steve huffed out, because Tony kept hitting that spot that made him see stars. The feelings only doubled when Tony started sucking on Steve’s neck. He bucked. Groaned. Cried out as he experienced an explosive climax.

He only vaguely registered Tony groaning in his ear and coming moments later. Tony pulled out and collapsed beside Steve, entwining their bodies together.

Maybe because there wasn’t much room, or perhaps he just wanted to be close to him after such a visceral experience. Steve didn’t mind either way.

He’d felt touch-starved for such a long time—always walking the solo path—that he thought he could very much get used to having someone in his space. To having Tony in his space. He pressed a kiss to the side of Tony’s head and drifted off to sleep.

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