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#stony smut
jacksdabbles · 11 months
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Also just gonna drop these panels I did at the beginning of the year (January style has definitely changed lol) /+inspired by my stony college au fic
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darsynia · 10 months
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Nearer, My God, To Thee | Stony Masterlist
TONY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST
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Written for ZaraMelMercury as a part of @tonysbirthdaygala
Summary: Steve Rogers appreciated his unexpected promotion to Fourth Officer-- until it became clear that it was more about being a novelty American-born officer of the White Star Line than it was about his skill at the job. After another frustrating shift attending to First Class, he was rescued by the devilishly handsome Tony Stark, a notoriously brilliant troublemaker annoyed by his own role as the most tempting eligible bachelor on the ship.
Stark suggested a mutually beneficial agreement-- Steve would stand as a duty-borne chaperone to Tony's worst tendencies, thus saving Steve from endless hours of small talk in First Class. As soon as they shook on it, however, both realized their partnership carried much more potential. Length/Warnings: 16,081 words // light D/s themes, sexual situations For @the-slumberparty prompt: "I'm the reason you're still alive"
Note: After years of being captivated by the wreck itself and the stories therein, I couldn't resist choosing a Titanic AU after seeing my giftee's request involving hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, and historical AU! Please note that this is not based on Jack & Rose from the film-- a Stony retelling of that already exists.
This is a fast burn, passionate romance between two people who happen to have met at one of the worst possible times. It's been pure joy to write, and I am so delighted to share it with you now!
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1: THERE LET THE WAY APPEAR, STEPS UNTO HEAVEN
2: ALL THAT THOU SENDEST ME, IN MERCY GIVEN
3: ANGELS TO BECKON ME
4: NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE; NEARER TO THEE
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wingsandblades67 · 2 years
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Hey I'm looking for someone to rp Stony with me! I do semi literate to literate style. I am looking for someone to rp Steve. I usually prefer Tony to be bottom but 🤷. I love angst and will do a lot of different aus including but not limited to; non-power, Omega verse, and villain au. I have some ideas but if you have one I'd love to hear it! ❤️
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elvain · 2 years
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i posted a stony one-shot for anyone looking for some stevetony love :) please give me feedback as i am a wilting plant in direct sunlight at this point
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jebsaysmeow · 2 years
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me: a virgin
also me: *writes 200k+ words smut fanfics and they're better than any p0rn script written by qualified s3x instructors*
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mrs-assbutt · 1 year
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Does anyone get that painful feeling in your stomach when you’re reading a fanfic and there’s a misunderstanding between the MC and their love interest/s and they feel unwanted and unloved.
I love that feeling.
Now what is this mental illness called?
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kandisheek · 2 months
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FIC REC WEEK 6 - SMUT
He Knows More Than You Do by ChibiSquirt
Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 35,580 Tags: Medical Kink, Dom/Sub Undertones, Porn With Feelings
Summary: “It’s the science,” Tony blurted, and that definitely only made it worse. He spat it all out at once, trying to get it over with: “It’s the science, okay? Steve has all these enhancements, he’s not normal, and everybody knew— it is in literally every scientist’s notes! — that there was some change to sexual functioning, but nobody knew what, and I’ve thought about it, okay? That’s it! That’s the only reason! Nothing more!” He spread his hands defensively and then, only then, dared a look at Steve. Steve looked... thoughtful? Or maybe constipated, or bored, or just drunk. Whatever it was, it wasn’t punching Tony in the face, so Tony decided to take it and run. “Look, it’s pretty much got to be the stamina or the recovery rate,” he blurted, because apparently he had no control over his mouth.“The only question is, which. But it’s just for science, okay?”(Spoiler alert: It was not just for science.)
Reasons why I love it: The smut in this is so fucking amazing. ChibiSquirt hits so many different kinks and some really creative ways to exploit Steve's practically non-existent refractory period. And a Steve that has a hairpin-trigger is always a delight, especially when he's as well-written as this one is. Not to mention the emotions that come rushing in towards the end, god, it's so good. This fic is wonderful from start to finish, so I highly recommend you read it!
Operation Spank Bank by fohatic
Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 19,171 Tags: Voyeurism, Escalating Situationship, Uniform Kink
Summary: Tony really shouldn't be hacking into classified SHIELD files behind Steve's back. Steve is a SHIELD agent, now—as well as Tony's captain—and this sort of thing reflects badly on him. So why is there a locked file titled "Operation Spank Bank" on Tony's private OS? And why hasn't Steve been briefed about any such operation? The file is password protected, but Steve has an eidetic memory and has seen Tony enter it, before -- it would serve Tony right if Steve were to 'hack the hacker' and learn for himself what "Operation Spank Bank" is all about...
Reasons why I love it: Give me all the sexually confident, openly teasing, little shit Steve Rogers! I love the transition from him being oblivious to what a spank bank even is to actively encouraging Tony's voyeuristic tendencies. And the shameless objectification of Steve is fucking amazing. I love this fic to pieces, and I bet you will too, so go and read it!
How to Fall In Love (in Four Easy Steps) by morphia
Pairing: Steve/Tony, minor Tony/Pepper Rating: E Words: 24,782 Tags: Casual Sex Partners, First Times, Happy Ending
Summary: Tony and Pepper's relationship is open, with only one clear rule: they must never let the other catch them with a fling. Soon after the events of The Avengers, Tony finally uses his license to sleep with others--with Steve. And Steve knows that their sexual encounters are intended to be strictly casual, but that doesn't stop him from falling hopelessly, stupidly in love. Or: What if they were actually banging behind the scenes?
Reasons why I love it: Are you looking for angst with a happy ending and a healthy dose of scorching hot smut? Then this is the fic for you. Steve's inner monologue is fantastic throughout the whole fic, and I love that we get to see canon play out in a subtly but significantly different way. Plus, the angsty parts are so packed with feels that they really hit home, no matter how many times I read this fic. Go and check it out, you won't regret it!
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angryandanonymous · 3 months
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Doodle of Steve and Tony getting together when Steve turns up at Tony’s Seattle flat to see/surprise him during @cherryblossomsmist “The Single Biggest Problem with Communication” . A fic I am happy to draw all day long (I’m also happy to draw Tony’s thighs all day long) This interaction is just so sweet, and there are so many delicious angsty layers of misunderstanding and miscommunication that still can’t hide the love that these two dorks have for each other.
The scene from the fic;
‘‘[Steve] pulled Tony into him. Tony might be heavier, but Steve was still strong enough to move him, even to get his hands under him and lift him, and that was exactly what he did, pulling him into his lap so his knees landed on either side of Steve’s hips. He could probably have done it even with Tony in the armor; in fact, he was sure he could (and wasn’t that a thought?).
“Hey,” Tony said, breathlessly.
Steve reached up, framed Tony’s face with his hands, running his fingers back into his hair. He smiled at him. “Yes?” he asked, grinning.
“Manhandling me?” Tony said, starting to grin a little back.
“Sure, a little,” Steve said, moving his fingers gently in Tony’s hair. It was soft against his fingers, tangled already. Tony’s erection was very hot and very present, pressed into his stomach, now. “You got a problem with that?”
“Not really,” Tony said. “You were pretty thorough about it the other day. When we were sparring, I mean.”
“Not as thorough as I could be,” Steve said, smirking.
Tony’s skin darkened a little, and Steve could feel it heat against his hands. Tony had flushed at that. Steve grinned with delight.
“I’m sure that’s true,” Tony muttered. He shifted his hips a little, up into Steve. “Plan to demonstrate, or are you just teasing?”
“Maybe a little of both,” Steve informed him.
Tony smirked, now. “I guess that’s acceptable,” he said, dropping his gaze to look at Steve from under his eyelashes, which apparently went straight both to somewhere in Steve’s chest to make it tighten a little and to his cock, making it jerk with a heated rush of desire. Steve pulled Tony closer, tilted their foreheads together, and Tony bit his lip as it pressed their groins tighter up against each other.
It felt good, but Steve wasn’t that interested in rushing to the main event, not yet. Instead he waited until Tony cast his eyes up toward him again, raising one eyebrow, then tilted Tony’s head with the grip he had on him and brought their lips together. Tony sucked in his breath and opened his mouth, and Steve set about kissing him thoroughly, running his fingers back through his hair in slow circles as he did. Tony made a low noise and curled his hands back around Steve’s neck, and his cock grew even hotter, slick and hard and needfully wet with precome as they kissed; Steve could feel it sliding hot against his stomach, so hard he half-wondered how far he could bring Tony toward climax just by kissing him with tongue.’’
Written work is all @cherryblossomsmist work, only the drawing and the description before the fic extract are mine .
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Y/N x Theo Raeken
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hainethehero · 4 months
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It doesn't matter who.
Tony, Bruce, Clint, Bucky...
They all have a soft spot for their sweet boy Steve.
For one of my bottom!Steve fics that I haven't updated in a while...
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rainbowsuitcase · 1 day
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18+ smut
Due to coming across a completely unrelated post, I am now thinking about SteveTony and bondage. About Tony tying Steve up and then taking his cock.
Maybe the ropes are a purely aesthetic thing, Steve still fully mobile with ropes crossing over his chest, Tony using them to tug him forward and make him go harder, Steve, c'mon.
Maybe the ropes are tying Steve's hands to his body, Tony pushing him on his back and riding him as he pleases, whether fast and hard or torturously slow.
Maybe Tony likes to tie Steve up and tease him until he snaps and uses his superhuman strenght to break free and take Tony hard.
Maybe Tony likes to tie Steve up exactly because he knows that no matter what he does, Steve trusts him enough to not break free.
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darsynia · 10 months
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Nearer, My God, to Thee | Stony | Chapter 2
STORY MASTERLIST | TONY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST PREV | NEXT
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Written for @zaramel as a part of @tonysbirthdaygala Summary: Steve Rogers appreciated his unexpected promotion to Fourth Officer-- until it became clear that it was more about being a novelty American-born officer of the White Star Line than it was about his skill at the job. After another frustrating shift attending to First Class, he was rescued by the devilishly handsome Tony Stark, a notoriously brilliant troublemaker annoyed by his own role as the most tempting eligible bachelor on the ship.
Stark suggested a mutually beneficial agreement-- Steve would stand as a duty-borne chaperone to Tony's worst tendencies, thus saving Steve from endless hours of small talk in First Class. As soon as they shook on it, however, both realized their partnership carried much more potential. Length/Warnings: 3,691 words // D/s themes For @the-slumberparty prompt: "I'm the reason you're still alive"
Tags: @chickensarentcheap @linnadhiell @sobeautifullyobsessed @ronearoundblindly
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Excerpt: “Do --” Steve started, as soon as Tony had turned his heel.
He stopped. “Go on?” Class strictures were hard to overcome, so he remained faced away.
“Do you push to cause me to… react? Or is it just your way?” 
“Define ‘react?’”
“With anger? Disapproval? A desire to correct you?” Steve whispered.
Tony allowed himself his own closed-eyed moment of happiness, out of the other man’s view. He was impatient, but it would hardly do to explain the draw this proper officer had for him. There was hardly anything proper about it.
“It is my way, but I--” he turned his body halfway but looked fully at Steve. “Some of it was meant to provoke, yes. I couldn’t help myself.”
The words were dangerous, but so was the flash of something he thought he saw in Steve’s eyes on hearing them.
“I don’t know if I can-- I don’t know how to give you what you want,” Steve said carefully.
“Do you want to tell me to stop?”
Tony held his breath.
Steve’s jaw clenched. “Sometimes.”
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Chapter Two: All that thou sendest me, in mercy given
Tony could sense Steve’s reticence, and given what he hoped for, it wouldn’t do to scare him off. It was enough just knowing that he might be willing to see Tony as someone other than an all-powerful businessman who had to be in charge at all times. That was Howard’s purview, and Tony had enough of his father’s genes to recognize they were poisonous.
Mostly, he wanted to draw Steve out, to break through the professional demeanor to reach the man underneath. He’d gotten glimpses (and oh, that touch), but it was clear that Sub-Lieutenant Steve Rogers was the kind of man who took pride in his position, in doing the right thing.
He’d just have to show Steve that taking charge was the right thing to do, when it came to Tony.
To that end, he asked about every part of the ship he could, encouraging Steve to lead him to the next object of interest. It was a pleasure to make his companion’s cheeks burn by peppering in periodic inappropriate interpretations of his explanations. He had hoped that might prompt the use of his first name, but as the evening came to a close, he was still firmly Mr. Stark, and there was a charm to that. Tony knew he burned brightly, sometimes intimidatingly so, but something felt different about Steve. He was worth the patience, and no part of their time together had made Tony feel like he ought to self-dim.
“That’s about all, at this hour,” Steve said, putting away his pocketwatch. He ran his hand along the metal of a piece of equipment the two of them likely shouldn’t be near, the name of which had already escaped Tony. He’d been too busy watching Steve’s eyes, was too engrossed in admiring the movements of his hands as he spoke.
“That was engrossing and thorough,” Tony decided to say. As he’d hoped, Steve looked down at his shoes with a tiny smile. “Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me, Steve,” he added.
Steve’s eyes closed for a split second at the sound of his name. Inside, Tony exulted, but he kept his expression carefully friendly.
“You’re welcome,” Steve said, pausing just slightly at the end, as though he’d thought about using Tony’s name and changed his mind.
“Will you join me for breakfast? You could glare at me disapprovingly if my eyes strayed from the food or you,” Tony suggested. “On my father’s behalf, of course.”
The pause between the two phrases had been short, but thick with promise, and Steve’s newly tense stance told him the innuendo had landed. After two minutes with no response, Tony decided to have mercy.
“Drop by if you choose to, then,” he said, offering Steve a crisp nod.
“Do --” Steve started, as soon as Tony had turned his heel.
He stopped. “Go on?” Class strictures were hard to overcome, so he remained faced away.
“Do you push to cause me to… react? Or is it just your way?” 
“Define ‘react?’”
“With anger? Disapproval? A desire to correct you?” Steve whispered.
Tony allowed himself his own closed-eyed moment of happiness, out of the other man’s view. He was impatient, but it would hardly do to explain the draw this proper officer had for him. There was hardly anything proper about it.
“It is my way, but I--” he turned his body halfway but looked fully at Steve. “Some of it was meant to provoke, yes. I couldn’t help myself.”
The words were dangerous, but so was the flash of something he thought he saw in Steve’s eyes on hearing them.
“I don’t know if I can-- I don’t know how to give you what you want,” Steve said carefully.
“Do you want to tell me to stop?”
Tony held his breath.
Steve’s jaw clenched. “Sometimes.”
“Have breakfast with me. In public. Afterwards, may I show you an invention we had constructed for us in London?”
Immediately, Tony worried he’d pushed too hard, enough to send the other man away, rather than on a recursive path. The air was cold enough for him to see Steve’s breath, and as he waited for a response, the quick breaths slowed to deeper, more measured ones. The idea that Steve had taken the time to calm himself before responding to Tony’s provocative invitation meant the world.
“I’d like that,” Steve finally said.
“Excellent. Bring your sketchbook, if you like.” He didn’t wait for a response.
Someone opened the door as Tony reached it, but rather than a White Star seaman, it was one of his father’s business contacts, pipe in hand. He didn’t wait around to see whether his father would soon follow. There was no way Tony wanted to appear anything but annoyed at his evening spent learning shipwrightery with Sub-Lieutenant Rogers.
The thought of using that made-up word to irritate his father the following day was a safe enough reason to smile, so Tony took that opportunity as he made his way back to the suite. Tomorrow, he hoped to capitalize on unguarded moments, times when he could catch sight of Steve’s private self. Steve had shown a passion for perspective during their walk about decks, hinting at the sketching hobby he’d eavesdropped to learn about. 
It had been years since he’d sought out someone like this, rather than getting quick thrills that burned quickly and went out twice as fast. Tony felt rusty and rushed, but the long-extinguished hope in his chest that he could have everything he wanted (wealth, opportunity, discipline, and someone to share it with) without the stigma some of those desires brought… it was tantalizing.
A rich businessman could be close with someone respectable like Steve Rogers. 
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Tony behaved like an utter shit at breakfast.
As he’d hoped, people at nearby tables started regarding Steve with compassionate pity after the many times he’d stopped Tony from calling loudly and rudely to other tables. There was no polite way to tell the audience that the ladies in question weren’t at risk, indeed, that one of them actually needed Tony’s outrageous behavior to use as a weapon to call off her matchmaking mother. He wasn’t heartless, and he didn’t wish to hurt good, decent young ladies with his antics, after all.
At the same time, he had barely any inclination to marry, much less to a British chit with no respect for a fortune earned by hard work rather than intermarriage.  
Tony sighed loudly and snuck a look at Steve’s face. He looked harried, certainly stressed, possibly upset, but it was hard to tell through the studied veneer of politeness. It was time to put him out of his misery.
“Please tell me you’re finished?”
“I can be,” Steve said in an even, measured voice that kindled a fire in Tony’s gut. That tone spoke of the effort in holding back. Fuck, he wished they were in the city, that they were farther along, that they weren’t in such a public place, trapped and on display.
“Good. Follow me,” Tony said, standing and dropping his crumpled napkin just as a wait-girl came by to take it. The white cloth immediately turned crimson at the edge that overhung the porcelain plate of strawberry tops.
“Pick that back up!” Steve hissed under his breath, clearly more scandalized than commanding-- but it was too late, the frightened woman hurried off with their plates piled so high Tony felt certain they’d tumble.
Steve’s red ears bore hint to his embarrassment, but the best way out was through. Tony jerked his head to indicate that Steve should follow and headed directly to his rooms, using all his willpower to avoid looking back to ensure Steve was behind him. Orpheus had nothing on him today. 
Howard had already detailed his plans for the day, undoubtedly in hopes that his son would make an appearance. He would, if he were in good enough spirits. Tony stood back and gestured for Steve to walk through. There was precious little space, and the knowing look that earned him almost put paid to Tony’s composure.
“Where--” Steve began, but Tony swept past him into an inner room, thumbing the lock on so deftly it was clear his companion hadn’t noticed. If Steve wanted to leave, though, he was welcome to. Tony enjoyed power play, but not with the unwilling.
“Did you bring anything? I didn’t see a book,” he asked, throwing himself down on a wide settee.
Steve nodded shyly. “The pages are loose, after so much time. I brought a few.” He sat and explained them, so engrossed in his descriptions of the parts he hadn’t captured that he missed the effect his drawings had on Tony. They were superb, studies in facial structure and emotion on one smoothed-out page, a close-up of an intricate curtain pull with a glimpse of roiling sea just past the ship’s railing on another.
Tony couldn’t help but reach toward it, but Steve caught his hand. “That one’s done with charcoal. I had to lay it in these handkerchiefs to keep from smudging. I ran out of the treatment to fix it in place.”
“So you’re saying I’m not to touch?” Tony whispered. He knew he shouldn’t push, that it could be too soon, but--
Steve froze, then released a breath, the tension releasing everywhere, even the grip he had on Tony’s hand. “Don’t touch.”
Is there something you’d like me to touch instead? he wanted to ask.
Instead, Tony said, “I won’t.”
“Good.” Steve’s hand closed tighter on Tony, then he let go. “I must say, Stark-- I’m not used to being uncertain. Particularly not when I know someone wants me to be anything but.”
“You’re asking what I want?” Tony felt Steve’s gaze on him, but if he turned his head now, he’d be reckless, careless, and this was too important.
“I am.”
“I want to break through to you. I want--” Tony had to move, so he got up and started pacing. “Your uniform, your duty, it’s a corset. It enhances you, but it also constrains.” He stopped, let his hands fall to his sides. “I’d love to see you without it.”
Steve’s eyes widened, but he bit his lip, and Tony swore under his breath.
“Do you know, I wanted to say that, but days from now? I didn’t mean that so literally, not now, not yet. I wanted to say, open up? Show me who you are under those things.” He winced. “Did I--” he couldn’t ask the question, but it grew under his tongue, constricted his throat, seeped in like ice to stop his lungs. Did I ruin things with you?
Steve stood, his expression impossible to read. At first, he clasped his hands at his waist, but then he moved to put one hand in his pocket, the other rigid at his side. His drawings lay forgotten on the chair, one so close to the edge it could fall at the slightest breath of wind.
Was it the charcoal? If Tony moved too quickly, would it fall and smudge?
“Do you want to know me because of me? Or because you have plans that would require knowing more about whoever you’d happened to enlist?” Steve’s voice was quiet, but dignified.
“Does it help to know that your question cements my desire to know more about you in particular?”
The hand at Steve’s side relaxed. “Yes, actually,” he said, some warmth returning to his face. “You’re right. I haven’t been myself. I’m not-- Individuality is difficult, at sea. Many of the other officers are well born, with pampered childhoods. I’m still sailing toward my childhood, a childhood friend in particular, in New York. It took a long time to get the chance to go back there, and I won’t be able to stay.”
Tony was certain that if he provided Sub-Lieutenant Steve Rogers the funds to spend a lifetime in New York, he’d be politely and firmly rebuffed.
“What will you tell your friend when you get there? Something you couldn’t put in a letter.”
Steve thought about his question for a moment, drawing up his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. The action created a tiny eddy of air that shifted the drawing further toward danger.
Tony knew just how that felt.
“I’d tell him growing into a man without him wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I did it as best I could. I’d ask him to hug me with all his power, and I’d offer to do the same, to see how much stronger we’ve gotten.” Steve’s smile was wistful, full of a yearning Tony completely recognized. “I’d tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t do what I promised.”
“What was that?” Tony asked, risking a slow, unhurried step toward him.
“I said I’d swim home, no matter how long it took. I thought about sketching someone at the pool, someone that looked enough like me, so I could give it to Bucky and say, ‘this was the best I could do, swimming your way with a ship underneath to keep me from washing away.’”
“You’re a good friend.”
“Thank you,” Steve said graciously. “Is that what you want? A good friend?”
Oh, he was clever in his decorum, this man. Tony ached to skip ahead, but that drawing was too precious to smudge. What he had in mind worked best with trust, and trust was best built with friendship, so there was an easy answer.
“I’d be honored by that, Steve.”
“Is it friendship, to watch another man you’d like to respect act so poorly in public?” Steve asked dubiously. “You said you wanted someone else to hold the power, but at breakfast, everyone in the room had to make choices based on what you were doing, myself most of all.” The regret in his eyes made their blue even more compelling. “I’m not comfortable with that.”
Tony blinked. Steve was right, of course, but he hadn’t realized his own reach, not until just now. He felt even more drawn in; Steve’s backbone, the thing that kept him upright-- it wasn’t built out of wealth or status, but honesty.
One thing was certain. Laying himself bare for this man would require emotional nakedness, too.
He moved decisively, reaching out in a swift gesture to lay a steadying hand on Steve’s upper arm. As Tony opened his mouth to speak, though, a movement caught his eye, and he lunged to stop the drifting sketch page from sliding across the floor.
“Sorry. Symbolic, that,” he said sheepishly, holding it out for Steve.
“Thank you for seeing the value in it.”
Tony couldn’t stop the heartfelt smile that curved his lips into a smile. “I was going to say, I’ve been rushing, you’re right. This morning… Sea crossings are short enough in terms of building rapport, but that’s not quite it, either.” He ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to look at Steve directly. “I like you, Steve. I set a bonfire, because if you were going to work to put it out, I’d join you, rather than burning alongside.”
Steve’s eyes shone with what looked like interest, but his brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite under--”
“If you were going to be driven away, I wanted to know immediately, before the disappointment became unbearable,” Tony interrupted.
“Oh.”  
The relief in Steve’s smile intensified the bonfire in Tony’s chest. This time, it was Steve who took the forward step, and his expression solidified into determination.
“All right then, can you show me?”
Tony surged toward him, certain he’d burn to ash if he ignored a request like that. Steve’s lips under his were startled but soft, his hands resting at Tony’s elbows, perhaps in fear that Tony had toppled forward by accident instead of by design-- but he wasn’t pulling back or shoving away, at least.
Then Steve leaned into the kiss, sliding his hand from Tony’s arm to the center of his chest to press there, warmly. He had a few seconds to think to himself that his fire metaphor was wrong, wrong, Steve was a lightning storm, a swirling wind, but then Steve moved his other hand to band it across Tony’s back, and all the rest of his thoughts were blown off course.
Minutes later, when Tony reluctantly pulled his fingers free of Steve’s hair and Steve’s desperate grip of his lapel loosened, Steve said, “How did you know I would let you do that?”
Tony allowed himself the indulgence of running the backs of his fingers across Steve’s cheek before he stepped away toward a mirror to correct his clothing back to something presentable.
“If you could have seen the look on your own face when I spoke of the bonfire, of rushing, you wouldn’t question yourself,” he said. Nodding at his reflection and turning around, Tony spread his hands wide, an acknowledgement of the lavishness of their surroundings. “We could worry about propriety, we could question the law and our own safety even here, in this most private and privileged space-- or we could take joy in the ease with which we found each other. I know which I’d rather do.”
He walked over and started to smooth out Steve’s uniform jacket, studiously avoiding looking at his face. There had been an internal struggle writ across his expression, and Tony recognized its source, knew there was no rushing the acceptance vs. fear that every man felt at a moment like this. There was something beautifully intimate about the way, yet again, Tony could see that Steve’s breaths were evening out, calming, reasoning, relaxing. Finally, Steve rested a gentle hand on Tony’s, brushing his thumb across his knuckles.
Tony didn’t hide the shiver that action sent through him, and Steve’s resulting squeeze felt like a warm welcome.
“Can I confess something?”
“You certainly can,” Tony said, stepping back and lifting his chin imperiously. “I should warn you, I’ve been dragged to enough Catholic confession that I might get creative, depending on what it is.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Steve said. “My ‘show me’ was about the power thing, how you said you wanted not to be the person with the responsibility of power. It felt like you were speaking of something private, and--”
It was Tony’s turn to respond with a single, “Oh.”
“I’m still glad you took the chance to-- I just still want to know, you see,” Steve hurried to say.
“I did think you were asking me to show you why I burned, or some other such fanciful notion,” Tony winced. “But, yes, your question.” He gestured for them to sit down again. “As you say, what I’m looking for has to do with power, but that’s a… surface description. It’s really about a give and take-- like your drawings. If you make a mistake on the page, you can’t take it back completely. You have to adjust the drawing around it, even if you didn’t want that, perhaps particularly if the change would ordinarily make you unhappy. The act of fixing it makes you more satisfied with the result, in a way that doing it perfectly the first time wouldn’t. Do you follow?”
“I follow the analogy, not sure I understand how it applies.”
Tony told himself that this was the moment, the make or break, but at least his earlier mistake had led to a leap forward in understanding. “You saw my behavior at lunch. Your instinct was to question me, express disappointment, yes?”
Steve nodded.
“Well, if my actions at breakfast smudged past the line, how would you work to adjust it? Would you look to correct me? If that were mixed with pleasure, what would that look like?”
Tony hadn’t meant to use the word pleasure, but he’d been rushing impetuously toward this goal ever since he’d laid eyes on Steve, and there was no taking it back now. He looked at the floor, not wanting to further pressure by watching hungrily for a response-- and that was when he saw Steve’s grip on the edge of the settee.
“Presuming we were… already comfortable with each other?” Steve whispered. Tony now considered ‘not looking at Steve’s expression’ as a punishment he’d earned, so all he did was nod and continue to watch the other man’s hand in fascination. The grip intensified, and Steve said, “I’d probably be more rough. I might expect you to-- oh.”
Tony couldn’t resist anymore. He looked up at Steve, whose eyes were wide, cheeks tinged pink, but everything he saw displayed there showed interest, curiosity.
“Are you chewing through the possibilities, Sub-Lieutenant?” 
Steve’s chest moved with the force of his quick breaths, and there was passion in his “Yes.”
“I’m so glad to hear it,” Tony grinned.
“We don’t have to… start there, do we?”
“No, not at all. In fact, I’m very much looking forward to finding out what makes you happy, before I figure out what makes you frustrated. Or angry.”
“Stark-- Err, I mean--”
Tony reached up to stop his lips with a thumb. Steve’s hand immediately flew over to circle his wrist, making Tony very grateful that they were seated, because that grip might as well have been on his cock-- or even more dangerously, his heart. He’d only been blessed to experience a partnership such as he was describing once or twice in the past, and the stigma of it had eventually swept away everything else. A bond formed at sea, though, between a man of means and a man of duty?
“Were you going to say something?” Steve said, his lips moving under Tony’s thumb. It was as much of a sensual caress as a deliberate one.
“I was building castles for you in my mind, I confess,” Tony said, drawing his hand back and twisting it, so he could squeeze Steve’s before moving it away fully. “Save my name, if you would. Make it special.”
“I like that. I will,” Steve said. The approval in his eyes was a caress all its own.
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Next Chapter...
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stark---contrast · 2 years
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The Cool Side of the Pillow
Ship: Stony Summary: Tony steals the blankets again and Steve isn’t nearly as annoyed as he anticipated. Rating: Explicit Word count: 1.6k ao3 link
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Tony slowly drifts to consciousness as the other side of the bed dips and he’s jostled ever so slightly.
He’s always been a light sleeper, even more so after Afghanistan, battling both the constant noise in his brain and the all-too frequent nightmares.
Of course, that was before he spent every night next to a restless sleeper.
Steve shifts on his side of bed, making the springs in the mattress creak from his mass. Steve claims he doesn't have nightmares anymore, but his body never seemed to get the memo, trashing and turning like the serum keeps the muscles spry even in sleep. Tony's bed has more than enough space for them both, but even the most expensive mattress complains when six feet of solid, hard muscle lies down on it.
There’s a light tugging on the blanket that Tony's clutching – having apparently hogged the majority of it once again. Too tired and comfortable to leave his nest of duvet coziness, Tony curls in tighter on himself to prevent Steve from snatching the blanket back.
Steve gives up much quicker than Tony's sleepy brain anticipated. He smiles in victory and buries his face into Egyptian cotton sheets.
There’s even more creaking and shuffling from Steve's side, and then a warm, hard body presses up against Tony's back, once again proving that being a blanket thief pays off. Tony mumbles wordless encouragement as Steve's arm wraps around his chest, over where the arc reactor used to be. He turns his head just enough to nuzzle against Steve's morning stubble.
“I knew you were awake," Steve huffs.
Steve's probably trying to sound annoyed, but it's not very convincing – especially since it’s followed by a soft kiss on Tony’s cheek.
“Mm,” Tony hums in agreement, not having enough energy to even open his eyes. He shuffles closer against Steve's body, so much warmer than the blanket, until he’s flush with –
“Shit,” Steve curses, burying his face against the nape of Tony's neck.
– a very hard dick straining against Steve's ridiculous tighty-whities.
Tony's brain immediately tunes into the horny channel without even leaving the sleepy channel. He groans long and loud and grinds down more firmly on the erection with his bare ass.
So Tony sleeps naked. It's his house, his rules, and his ridiculously sexy boyfriend that has never once complained.
And complaining seems to be the last thing on Steve's mind even now, because he chokes on a moan and grabs Tony's hip a little too firmly.
“God, I want you,” is breathed into Tony's ear.
The gruff, sleepy voice shoots straight to Tony's dick, still spent from their frankly amazing session earlier that night. 
“Do it,” Tony mumbles.
Steve hesitates. “Do you really mean that?"
“Just grab some lube,” Tony slurs. 
He buries the side of his face against the pillow, lifting his leg to give Steve better access.
Steve lets out a sound: half groan, half one of his battle grunts, and then he's scrambling out of his briefs and reaching for the bedside drawer.
A lubed finger soon prods at Tony's ass and he bites back a moan and pushes against it.
The finger easily slips past the rim, and Tony smiles to himself as Steve carefully spreads the lube inside. Always a gentleman, even during quick and dirty fucks in the darkness.
A second finger teases at his hole and Tony grows impatient.
"Don't," he murmurs. "Still loose from earlier."
Steve's hand stills. "Are you sure?"
"Get your dick in me or I'm going back to sleep."
Steve huffs at Tony's impatience but the slick sounds of him lubing up his cock make Tony squirm from anticipation.
And then, finally, there's the blunt pressure of Steve's cockhead against Tony's hole, and it sends a spark of pure want to Tony's core.
"Come on, Steve –" Tony says.
Steve pushes in and Tony makes some garbled sound between "fuck yes" and "more" and "god I love your cock."
The slide in is smooth as Tony's body opens up to the familiar intrusion – just like Tony said he would, ha, take that, Rogers – and Tony holds onto the pillow for dear life until Steve bottoms out.
"Oh – oh, Tony."
Steve's voice is absolutely destroyed and he's trembling all over. Possessiveness curls in Tony's chest because he did that, he made Steve this beautiful, desperate mess.
"Can I," Steve shifts and the action makes them both groan. "Please, I can't –"
"Go for it, champ," Tony says, looking over his shoulder and meeting Steve's wild gaze in the darkness. "Wreck me."
A full-body shudder runs through Steve and then he's grabbing Tony's hips to hold him in place and thrusting.
Tony gasps and his back arches at the sharp pressure of Steve's cock against his prostate, the sound morphing into a drawn-out groan as Steve keeps pumping into his body.
Tony's rim is slick with lube and the sound of Steve moving in and out is absolutely filthy, the whole room echoing with Tony's moans and the slippery sounds of Steve's cock plunging into him. The stretch is so good, it always is because Steve's cock is perfect just like the rest of him, and the assault on his sensitive hole combined with the eerie precision with which Steve's thrusts seem to hone in on his prostate make Tony feel like he's floating.
"God, Tony," Steve pants. He grabs Tony's thigh, holding his leg up to keep him nice and spread. "You feel so good. So sweet inside."
Tony groans in encouragement and clutches the pillow hard while Steve goes to town, happy to make Steve feel this way, happy for Steve to use his yielding, tired body.
There’s something desperate in the way Steve humps into Tony's ass, erratic movements that show just how pent up he is. Tony has half a mind to ask what kind of dream Steve was having to warrant this kind of reaction, but with his own brain still half-asleep the only thing he can do is lie back and take it.
“Tony… Tony," Steve pants, so far gone with it. "You look so – I can't believe you'd let me do this to you."
And then, ever the perfect lover, Steve reaches around to paw at Tony's dick, but Tony swats his hand away. He knows he's not going to be able to perform any time soon – not after the spectacular orgasm Steve had wrung out of him right before bed.
"Not gonna work, stud," Tony murmurs. "I'm all done for tonight."
"You're sure?" Steve grunts.
"Yeah, no more fireworks for me," Tony says. "Just keep doing what you're doing. Feels good."
Steve's hand goes back to Tony's thigh, his fingers digging into the muscle in a way that'll probably leave a lovely bruise for tomorrow. But he doesn't pick up the pace, and Tony wants –
"Steve," Tony whines impatiently while pushing back. "Fuck. Me."
Steve groans, like something in him breaks, and then he's pulling out and slamming back in, and Tony thinks he actually blacks out for one blissful second.
"Yes," Tony says.
Steve does it again, and again, and again, lulling Tony into a wonderful place where nothing exist but him and Steve and this room, where Iron Man and Captain America aren't needed and everything is just love and passion and heat –
"Not gonna last long," Steve warns.
God, Tony wants that, wants to feel Steve let loose, to use him like a warm hole until he's satisfied. To come on him, in him –
"Come on, Steve," Tony says "You're amazing, beautiful, perfect, just let go for me, gorgeous."
Steve pants and his thrusts grow erratic. "Please, Tony," Steve says, voice rough and desperate. "I'm so close."
"Yes, fuck, yes," Tony babbles. "Give it to me, wanna feel it, I love it when you come inside me –"
"Oh god, shit, coming –" Steve grits through clenched teeth.
Steve tenses up and thrusts deep inside Tony before finally tumbling over the edge with a long groan, pulsing and releasing hot into Tony's body.
Tony moans through it, like Steve's orgasm is his own, feeling every throb and twitch of Steve's cock as he spends himself inside Tony's well-fucked hole.
"Fuck," Steve curses once it's done. It’s a rare word from Captain America, and Tony chuckles almost deliriously.
"Yeah," Tony says. "That was a fuck, alright. God, tomorrow's gonna be – ah," he gasps as Steve pulls out, a hot trail of come dripping out after him and making Tony clench around nothing.
"Sorry," Steve apologizes, because one curse word is all Tony gets before he's back to boy scout. "Are you okay?"
"Never been better," Tony mumbles into the pillow.
Hm, he could really go for a nap right about now. He sort of forgot how comfortable the bed was while Steve was busy railing him through it. Now, he can't help but sink deeper into the mattress, warm and sated and fucked-out.
A soft kiss is placed into his hair, and Tony only briefly registers how sweaty it must be. Steve doesn't seem to mind, though.
"I'll get a towel to clean us up," Steve murmurs. "You go ahead and rest."
Tony's witty reply comes out as "Love you" because his brain-to-mouth filter is apparently already asleep.
"I love you too," Steve says, and Tony can tell by his voice that he's smiling. He kisses Tony's gross sweaty hair again. "So much."
Steve heads for the bathroom and Tony's asleep in seconds, with a dull throb in his ass and a pleasant fluttering in his chest.
He's definitely hogging the blankets again tomorrow.
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sygoflyy · 9 months
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Beginner’s Guide to Smut
I’m new to fan fiction writing. I’m new to fan fiction. I’m new to fandom. I’m honestly new to fictional writing but I write psycho-educational reports for work. I started in the Interview with the Vampire fandom but I hate it there so I moved on to the SamBucky situation on recommendation. I love it here. All the complaints seem to be about SamSteveBucky threesome fics and I don’t go there, never enrolled, don’t even drive by that school.
Anyway, at first I couldn’t write angst. Got that down then there was smut. I have two smut scenes on AO3 and I refuse to reread my first. I revised my second one today and decided to take a peek into my old fandom to see how a better writer writes their smut.
I write like an alien taking notes on human behavior to imitate later. Frankly, it’s embarrassing. But with this writer, I noticed they include what the lovers are thinking and feeling while I was focusing on their actions. Here’s to better ateerys (on AO3) smut in the future. It may not be my greatest strength but I’m confident in my ability to learn and take on a challenge. I’m also grateful for fan fiction writing too, you girls are TAKING IT!
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xwinterdreams-blog · 2 years
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Heal Me
Team Fuck fill for @stevetonygames square "Superhealing"
The first time it happened Tony thought it was just a coincidence. A good fuck always made him feel great, after all.
So if he was feeling a bit stronger, with less aches and pains than he was used to, the day after he and Steve had sex for the first time, well. He just put it down to his good mood.
But a few days later he gave Steve a blow job, and while Steve was drifting in a hazy afterglow Tony looked down at his hand and he frowned. That was weird.
Just that morning he’d been a little careless with a soldering iron and he’d burnt his left hand. It had been red and sore, and he knew it would leave a mark behind but that didn’t really bother him. He’d made sure to use only his right hand on Steve to avoid aggravating his left.
But now as he looked down where the mark should be, there was nothing. He rubbed his thumb over the smooth patch of skin. Smooth like Steve’s skin when he got cut or bruised or stabbed, even. Before you knew it, time depending on the severity, it just disappeared.
Tony’s eyes shot to Steve, in a relaxed sprawl on the couch. No way. Superhealing sperm? That was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Surely someone would know if that was a thing. They’d tested Steve for all sorts of things, right? Maybe they hadn’t tested for that, though.
What about when Steve had sex previously? Hmm, how often did Steve even have sex? He was always very cagey around such subjects. Tony was still pretty shocked he was so willing to fuck around with him. Not that he was complaining.
Steve blinked a couple of times, focusing intently on Tony kneeling in front of him. “Come here,” he grinned boyishly. “Let me return the favour.”
Shaking off his wayward thoughts, Tony scrambled onto Steve’s lap and kissed the hell out of him while Steve’s hands roamed. Figuring this out could wait, Steve bringing him to a delicious climax could not. He had his priorities in order.
The next time Tony decided to perform a little test. The whole idea still seemed fairly ridiculous to him, but he had to experiment a little. For science.
They were heading off on a mission in an hour to take down an enemy base, and intel said they had a lot of fire power. Chances were high that Tony would take some blows. So he decided to load up before they went. Just in case.
Seducing Steve into his bed was easy. It made Tony wonder if Steve really hadn’t been getting any, because the somewhat uptight man was wonderfully eager. Also very bashful about coming more often than Tony, but he made sure to reassure him.
“Shh, baby. I love your come. I want more of it.” That was the beauty of Steve’s superhealing, a fast refractory period. In the end he got five orgasms out of Steve, and yes he was pretty proud of that.
Tony wiped off excess stickiness, but refused Steve’s offer of a shower. Then they were off on their mission and Tony did indeed take a bit of a beating.
Nothing he normally wouldn't have gritted his teeth and pushed through, but that didn’t feel remotely necessary. He simply shrugged off every blow. They hurt, yes. But they didn’t slow him down or distract him like they should.
Post mission Tony stripped down and eyed his body in a floor length mirror. Every inch was unblemished. No bruises, no scrapes, no cuts. He looked and felt fine.
What the fuck. Steve’s superdick had magic healing powers. He wondered what he should do with that information? Send out a memo? Yeah, no.
He should maybe tell Steve, but that would be awkward as hell. What if Steve revoked his superdick privileges? Couldn’t have that. And not because of the superhealing, either. Tony could deal with some scrapes and bruises. But he’d really miss fucking Steve.
Hmm. Something to think on.
But then they got called out to a mission, and Tony didn’t have any superhealing sperm in his system. He’d noted that the effects only lasted a couple hours.
It should’ve been fine. He knew better than to be reliant on this quirk to protect him in every situation. He was Iron Man. If he couldn’t take the hits and defend himself he wouldn’t be out there.
Unfortunately he hadn’t been counting on Dr. Doom disabling his suit and catching him without backup. He’d had to single-handedly fight off countless doom bots while the real Doom made his getaway. Eventually Steve and Thor found him, taking care of the doom bots in quick succession.
Back at the tower Tony was checked over by a doctor, and deemed battered and bloody, but not in need of emergent care. He just needed lots of bed rest until he healed.
Steve, Natasha, Thor, Clint and Bruce all crowded around Tony’s bed, looking on with concern.
Tony groaned. He usually wasn’t one to complain, more one to pretend he was fine. But it really fucking hurt. And he wasn’t looking forward to copious amounts of bedrest. Not that his worried teammates would let him get away with anything less.
“What do you need, Tony?” Steve asked, placing a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder. Their eyes met, and the concern he found in Steve’s eyes undid him.
“I need you to fuck me.”
The reaction was instantaneous. From everyone. Exclamations, laughter, awkward coughs. Oh right. They were all still here. He’d forgotten for a minute.
Steve’s face flamed. “Tony, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now–”
“It’s a great idea, actually.” Tony mumbled. “It’ll make me feel waaaaaay better. That’s what you want isn't it?”
“I don’t understand.” Steve frowned. “In your current state–”
“You have magic sperm. Not that I believe in magic, I’m sure there’s science behind it. Biology isn’t really my thing, but maybe if you gave some to Bruce he could–”
“Tony!”
“Yeah?” Tony grinned up at Steve, who could not look anymore embarrassed if he tried. Oops.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Your superhealing transfers. Through your superdick. It’s happened every time we’ve fu–”
“I get it.” Steve interrupted quickly.
“Maybe we should leave you two alone.” Natasha said.
“Why?” Clint complained. “It’s just getting interesting.”
“Come on.” Natasha insisted, dragging Clint out of the room, followed by Thor and Bruce. An awkward silence was left in their wake.
“Sorry bout that. Not very low-key.”
Steve’s brows furrowed. “I never said I wanted that. I’m not ashamed of… us.” Huh. That’s what you got for making assumptions. “That doesn’t mean I need you telling our teammates all the details.” He said pointedly.
“Gotcha.” Tony grinned.
“So this will really help you?” Steve asked.
“Evidence suggests.”
“Is this what all those orgasms was about the other day?”
“I had to test my hypothesis.” Tony smiled shamelessly. “But it was fun too, right?”
Steve chuckled. “Yes. It was.” He looked over Tony with concern. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’ll have to be still, let me do all the work. I’ll be gentle.” Nodding decisively, Steve started efficiently stripping his uniform.
Tony decided to follow Steve’s directive and enjoyed the show. His everything was aching, but the expanses of muscled skin being revealed made a good distraction.
When he was naked, Steve climbed onto the bed, pulled the covers off Tony’s body and placed his hands on Tony’s hips. He frowned at the close up view of all the damage that had been done. Tony thought he might be having second thoughts, but instead he started placing the gentlest of kisses over each and every mark.
“I’m so sorry you’re hurt,” he whispered against Tony’s skin.
“It happens.”
��I should’ve been there.”
“You didn’t know. You got there as fast as you could.”
Steve shook his head, and Tony knew he disagreed. He didn’t want him to blame himself, but if this was how Steve needed to make amends? He was okay with that.
Steve carefully pulled down Tony’s briefs. He continued kissing all over his thighs, then along his cock. More firmly than his earlier kisses, thank fuck that area of his body was unscathed.
Steve’s tongue came out to play, laving over Tony. He groaned, throwing his head back and lifting his pelvis towards Steve’s warm mouth.
Steve’s mouth lifted abruptly and he glared at Tony, placing gentle yet firm hands against Tony’s hips. “Stay. Still.”
He huffed. “Fine.”
Steve happily went back to what he was doing, taking his dick into his mouth and sucking. Soon he added lube slicked fingers to the mix, stretching Tony with infinite patience.
Usually Tony would’ve gotten frustrated at this point, demanding Steve just fuck him already. He held his tongue. Maybe it was just the fact that he was hurt, but this actually felt kind of nice.
So far all their encounters had fallen under the quick and dirty category, which Tony did not take issue with remotely, but they’d never just taken their time with each other.
Having all of Steve’s attention, not just pleasing him but taking care of him felt really, really good.
When Steve decided Tony was ready, he held himself above Tony, palms resting on the bed on either side of him.
“Permission to move?” Tony asked cheekily, glancing down at Steve’s heavy cock.
Steve nodded. Tony placed his dick at his entrance, and Steve slid inside him in a movement made smoother by all of the prep.
Their eyes locked, their bodies stilled, and for one infinite moment they just connected. Tony felt vulnerable in a way he hadn’t felt with Steve so far. He’d been treating it all as just a bit of fun, a friends with benefits kind of thing.
But right now, as Steve began pulling out and sliding back in with careful, deep thrusts– maintaining eye contact as he did– they felt a million miles away from anything so casual.
“Steve?” He whispered.
“You’re okay.” Steve pressed kisses all over Tony’s face, on his cheeks, chin, eyes, nose.
“What the fuck is happening.” He muttered, squeezing his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill. He opened his eyes when Steve cupped his cheek with his hand, and leaned in to brush his lips softly against Tony’s.
“I’m making love to you.”
“That’s not very casual.” Tony mumbled.
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want that either. Do you?”
Tony shook his head. It scared him, releasing the valve on all the feelings he had for Steve. Like they were too much. Too big to let out. But it felt right. Nothing had ever felt this right in his life.
Steve adjusted his position, dropping his hand back to the bed, and when he shoved back inside he slammed against Tony’s prostate.
“Yes. Fuck! Right fucking there!” He gasped. He writhed. It hurt, fuck did it hurt. But he was so lost in pleasure that the pain twisted with the pleasure into agonising sensation and he couldn’t tell pain from pleasure.
Steve seemed equally lost. Groaning, grunting, whispering filthily in Tony’s ear how tight he was, how good he felt. “Come for me sweetheart. I need you to come. Then I can come in you.”
Yes. Tony didn’t just need that. He wanted it. He loved the evidence of Steve’s pleasure marking him, dripping out of him. He shuddered, tensed, electricity travelling down his spine and into his balls. Steve’s silky smooth hand slid down his dick, gripping him tightly and throwing him over the edge. He came, thick stripes shooting over his chest, hole clenching around Steve’s pumping cock.
Steve thrust, moaned, and then he was coming too. Jerking back and forth until he was finished and the sensations became too much. He held still, watching Tony for a moment, before he pulled out and collapsed at his side.
They lost themselves to breathing and blissful afterglow for several minutes. “How are you feeling?” Steve asked eventually.
“Great,” Tony answered immediately. “That was fantastic.”
“Tony.”
“Oh, my aches and pains.” He looked down at his body, and watched as the lightest marks disappeared before his eyes.
“Holy shit.” Steve said, shocked. “Honestly, I kinda thought it might’ve just been a line to get me to fuck you.”
Tony burst out laughing. “And yet you agreed?”
Steve blushed. “I’ve made no secret of how much I want you Tony. And after today I needed to be close to you. To know that you were okay. If there was even a chance I could make you feel better, regardless of how… hell yeah I was gonna do it.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m feeling much better already. Magic sperm.”
Steve tried to frown, but it was ruined by his twitching lips. “Can we stop calling it that?”
“Nope!”
Steve sighed, wrapping his arm around Tony’s shoulder and pulling him against him. “I’m just glad it’s helping.”
“Mm, me too. I was not looking forward to healing this the slow way. You’re gonna have to fuck me very regularly, just to keep me safe.”
“I think I can manage that,” Steve chuckled.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Steve leaned forward and once more captured Tony’s lips.
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sayahs-corner · 1 year
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For @captain-stark-rogars (hope you don't hate it! :P)
Prompt: Stony on the verge of Divorce but end up stranded ((snow storm?)) and they realize there is a ember burning…they end up wanting to work it out …((maybe sexy time ?))
Rating: E
Tony trudged wearily through thigh deep snow, his face contorted into a grimace as the biting wind lashed viciously at his stinging face. He had long ago lost feeling in his toes that were covered by snow soaked shoes. He walked with his back bowed against the bite of the wind, his fingers tucked under his armpits to try to steal what little warmth he could. He was sure his skin was reddened and chapped at this point, the skin of his face unprotected from the bitter winds and fat snowflakes falling at a staggering rate. 
What was supposed to be a quick trip out to their cabin in Maine had turned into an absolute cluster fuck. 
The rental truck had broken down about three miles back, buried nose deep in a snowbank off the side of the road. There was no fixing it in this storm, visibility was shit poor and Tony could barely see three feet in front of him. Cell phone was out. And for some reason Stark Network was down. Tony couldn’t get a single call out or in, his phone sitting like a chilly, useless, brick in his pocket. Even his suit wasn’t responding. It was as if he was truly in a dead zone.
Which was new… for him. For goodness sake, he had literally sent satellites to space so that this exact situation would not be possible. Millions of dollars spent, only to be defeated by a snow storm. Blizzard. Whatever.
So, Tony had left the relative safety of the truck's cab, and headed up the snow covered road that led to the cabin. Their cabin. 
He swallowed. 
Steve had always loved it up here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. He liked hiking in these woods and fishing in the streams and ponds. He’d bring a pair of binoculars along (mostly for Tony because of that whole superior vision thing) to point out all of the different birds that lived in the woods in these parts. An avid bird watcher, his Steve was, and Tony had simply enjoyed the way those blue eyes would spark with excitement whenever he found a new bird from his national Audubon Society field guide. That book had been handled so often that the spine was barely holding together. Pages had been dog eared, notes in Steve’s neatly legible scrawl filled the margins.Tony could remember the barely contained exhilaration in his whisper as he’d point towards a duck lazing across the blue green waters of the pond. ‘Look, Tones, it’s a harlequin duck!”
It had always been a struggle to tear his eyes away from Steve in those moments to look at what had made his lover's face light up like that. Tony had loved looking at Steve. 
Once upon a time, Steve had loved looking back at him. 
The countless lazy mornings they had spent together in this quiet cabin, sheets tangled about their legs and bodies twisted around each other were too many to count. And too precious. A sharp pang of longing stabbed into his heart.
Once upon a time the world had been a simpler place. Their love, so new and pure and bright, had been the thing that had kept Tony going. He remembered that love, fingers entwined, the soft press of Steve’s lips against his own, the way those broad calloused fingertips felt as they traced over the curves and edges of his body. He knew the rasp of Steve’s stubble, the dark salty taste of his skin. He knew every scar, every divot and curve, of his super soldier's body.
Hmm. Not his super soldier anymore. 
Not his anything.
Tony had left the Avengers tower six months ago and hadn’t looked back. What had been bright and beautifully had long since lost its shine. 
Their love, which once sat full and pure in his chest, had withered away to something dark and sour. Laced with bitterness and regret.
He couldn’t make Steve happy. 
Damnit, he had tried. 
He had tried so fucking hard at this, the one most important thing in his life, had tried to make it work. Nothing he did was ever enough. Nothing he did was right. He was the sole financial supporter of the Avengers Initiative at this point. He worked tirelessly to keep America’s hero’s funded. 
Sometimes that meant long work trips, being away from the tower at strange times of the day and night. The harder he tried to please Steve, the colder his lover had gotten. There had been a distance there, and Tony had watched in horrified fascination as it grew day after day. He had once felt pulled into Steve’s orbit, warmed by his smile and the strength of his love. Over time those smiles had faded until all that was left for him was creased brows and glacier cold eyes that did little to hide their disappointment.
They hadn’t been to the cabin in years. And okay, maybe that was partially his fault. Between work and superheroing, Tony hadn’t had much time for much else. After every mission Steve would huddle around with the rest of the team for the post mission recap. Always, always, Tony’s tech seemed to come up short.
‘We could have used you in the air there, Tony.’
‘Some surveillance before we moved in on the warehouse would have helped save time.’
‘If we could have gotten through that wall, we could have saved those people. They’re gone because our weapons weren’t enough. We weren’t enough.’
As time went on the criticism became more sharp, more directed at Tony. It wasn't just Tony’s tech that had failed them. It was Tony himself. 
Steve seemed to chafe and glower whenever Tony came around. Towards the end… Steve couldn’t even look him in the eye. Which, in and of itself was a blessing, because when he did his eyes had sparked with a banked rage. Disgust. 
So Tony…well, he stopped coming around. He worked more. He moved out of the Tower. He stopped going on missions unless his presence was specifically requested, and then he didn't stay for the post mission recap. He couldn't stand to look Steve in the eyes. Every time he did it felt like someone was carving up his chest with a blunt spoon, digging deeper and deeper into his flesh. 
It felt like Obie ripping the arc reactor from his chest. It felt like Pepper’s spare key laying on the counter, her ‘goodbye Tony’ written in her nest scrawl on the back of a business card. It felt like his parents going on that weekend trip and never coming back. It was grief and regret and betrayal and longing all wrapped up into a painful package that was Steven Grant Rogers.
So Steve didn’t love him anymore. Big deal, right? Tony was used to people loving him and walking away.
He was inherently flawed.  Broken. So many good people, and not one of them could love him. What did that mean? 
What did that make Tony?
He shook his head, refusing to think about it anymore. Refusing to think about anything except for the cabin.
He wasn't sure why he had come here in the first place. Natasha said it was necessary, though. It was about Steve. 
Steve.
He had been tempted not to come. But he couldn't stop himself. She had sounded so sad and serious on the phone. Resigned almost. There was something that he needed to know about his former lover, something that was terribly wrong, and she wouldn't tell him over the phone. It had to be a face to face. She was in Maine at the moment, doing some research for an upcoming mission. Did he want to meet her at his cabin?
It had been on the tip of his tongue to say no. He wasn't going to meet her at the cabin. 
It wasn't his cabin. It was their cabin. And they didn't exist anymore. 
There was just Tony. 
And just Steve. 
There was no they. 
How could he go back to a place that lived in the quiet recesses of his heart? 
How could he go back to a happier time? When he dreamt at night, when he actually slept, his mind took him back to that cabin in the woods. Back to the birds and the ponds. Back to running through the woods together, slapping branches out of the way and leaping over logs.  Of being caught up in Steve’s arms before they collapsed into the leaf litter on the forest floor, lost in each others eyes. Cooking breakfast together, Steve’s lips pressed against the column of his throat as he flipped the pancakes, the sharp press of Steve’s teeth to the lobe of his ear. Back to a time where he could lay his head down on Steve’s chest and feel the warm and steady beat of his heart. 
How could he go back to that place that only existed in memory? When the present was so fucking hard and so bleak without the glow of Steve in it.
But he had swallowed down his protests. Had bit his tongue until a flood of copper burst across his taste buds. 
It…was just a cabin.
He looked up, eyes stinging and tears leaking from the corners, to see the warm glow of the cabin up ahead.
He stopped. He closed his eyes, ignoring the bite of the wind and snow. Ignoring the numbness in his fingers or the way the wind and wet had snuck past every layer he had on. He had long lost the ability to feel his toes. He stood there, out in the cold and snow, welcoming the raw feeling that was tearing apart his chest from the inside. It hurt so goddamn much. All of the time. He was fucking tired of feeling like this. He missed Steve. He missed being loved and loving someone in return. The pain of it had not lessened in the six months since he’d moved out of the tower. It just grew sharper, more jagged and cutting, every day. 
He drew in a deep breath, feeling the cold air bite deep into his lungs, before shaking off his moroseness. 
Nat was there. 
At the cabin. 
Waiting for him. 
And here he was, standing outside in a fucking blizzard, like some kind of love sick idiot. Sure he was here about Steve. And he was already mentally bracing himself for whatever Nat had to say. He had done his due diligence and tried to find out, beforehand, what Nat was about to spring on him. Tony didn't like surprises.
Was Steve sick? Was he hurt? But after their last mission together two weeks ago Steve had dropped off the face of the earth. Not even Jarvis could find him, and that was rather impressive in and of itself. 
Which was why he was out here in the deep woods of Maine, in a blizzard, bracing himself for what lay beyond that cabin door. Because despite the time and distance, the angry words and the vicious fights, Tony still cared about Steve. Very much so.
Pressing his lips together in a determined line Tony forced himself to march forward. He made his way through the snow, teeth clenched together to stop their chattering, and marched up the wood steps of the cabin. Nat was inside, the fire burning in the hearth, the warm amber glow of light shining through the curtained windows. Tony cleared his throat and swallowed down the abject misery that was swimming in his guts. He couldn't let her see how much this hurt. 
Stomping his feet on the mat, kicking off the excess snow which was an exercise in futility, Tony wrapped his hand around the cold metal of the door knob. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and resisted the urge to knock. Because it felt like he didn't belong here. Like this place belonged to a different Tony. A different version of himself who was happier. Coming in here, like he was, seemed sacrilegious. 
Fuck it. 
He opened the door, the warm gust of heat of the cabin's interior slapping him in the face. Quickly he closed the door behind him, not willing to let the heat out. His eyes drifted over the interior of the cabin. The scent of pine and woodsmoke and the unmistakable scent of Steve still lingered in the air like a ghost. Haunting and bitter and sweet.
Tony tried to suck in another breath of air, but his teeth began to chatter, the warmth just as biting as the cold. He had to get changed, to get out of these clothes. He had to-
And then all the air was punched out of him.
Because there, on the couch in front of the fire with a book resting facedown in his lap, was Steve. 
In their cabin. 
Those blue eyes were trained on him, watching his every move, widened slightly with shock.
Fucking double crossing Russian Spy. You really couldn't trust anyone these days. He bet she didn't even speak latin.
Tony sucked in a pained breath, leaning heavily against the wall. The urge to run, to get away from what would inevitably be a really painful conversation was strong. He couldn't bear to watch those eyes darken with hate. With disgust. 
He stumbled toward the door, fingers reaching for the handle.
“Tony?”
He froze at the tentative sound of Steve’s voice. At the raspy, rough, sounding quality it usually took on after a rather vigorous bout of…
Oh God. 
Oh god. 
Had Steve…was Steve here with someone? 
If Tony had thought he had experienced pain before, it was nothing compared to the feeling that sliced him to his marrow then. This place. This sacred place…had Steve been using it as a love shack? Had he erased every memory they had shared here together and replaced it with someone else? 
Hot, acidic, bile burned the back of his throat even as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. It was stupid. Stupid to feel this level of betrayal. 
Tony’s hand wrapped around the door knob. He couldn't, wouldn't stay here, not for another second. Not for anything. If this was what Nat had been trying to tell him she had chosen a really fucking shitty way to go about it.
He jerked the door open, heart thundering raw in his chest, only to have it slam shut in his face a moment later. He felt the hot press of Steve behind him. Looked up to see Steve’s broad palm pressing the door closed. Blocking the exit. 
Tony turned around, hurt and confused and betrayed and…fucking furious.
“What the fuck, Steve?” 
He watched those blue eyes narrow, watched the sneer twist across his lips. Ah yes. Though it hurt, it was, atleast, familiar. 
This was how Steve looked at him now.
“Running away again, Stark?” The growl was low and mean. Steve leaned in, so that they were practically pressed chest to chest, pinning him against the door. “Because you’re so good at that these days. All you do is run away. Why should this time be any different?”
Tony threw his hands up and to the side, anger burning a caustic clear path inside of him. 
“Oh! I’m sorry,” he sneered back, his voice rising only to dip low in sarcasm. “Why don't you bring him out here? Or is it her? Does it matter? Go ahead. Introduce me to the person you are fucking in our cabin. In our place. Sorry, no, you know what? This cabin belongs to me. So you and your fuck toy can get the hell out of it.”
Tony watched as Steve reeled backwards, eyes rounded with shock, before narrowing with anger.
“Is that what you think, Tony? That I brought someone here to fuck in our bed? Sorry,” he sneered. “Your bed? God, you are such an honest piece of work.” Steve's hands slammed onto his hips before he pivoted away. Away from the door and away from Tony.
“I can’t believe… is that why you left? Is that why you abandoned us? Because you thought I was fucking someone else? That I was cheating on you?”
“No, I left because nothing I ever did was good enough for you.” The words left his lips like heat seeking arrows arching toward their intended target. “No matter what I did, no matter how hard I worked, nothing I gave you was ever enough! You were bleeding me dry! My tech wasn't good enough for you. My work wasn’t good enough. It was always somehow my fault whenever something went wrong on mission even though you’re the goddamn mission leader. Captain America. The man with the plan. Unless the plan fails and then it's suddenly Tony Stark’s fault!”
“Well if that isn't the first honest thing I’ve heard come out of your mouth in months! I never wanted your tech! I never wanted the tower! All I ever wanted was you! You, you giant, arrogant, asshole! And you were always gone. Always too busy to take my calls or to spend time with me or to - fuck.” Steve bit off his sentence, the anger bleeding out of his eyes and the tense lines of his shoulders. It left him looking tired, wrung out. There were dark circles under his eyes. Lines that hadn’t been there before bracketed his mouth. 
“You look like shit,Tony. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes and warmed up. We can…we can talk about this later.” The last half of that sentence sounded almost resigned. As if Steve would blink and Tony would be gone. Fight unfinished. 
Maybe he had been running away for a while now. 
And he did feel like shit, not just because he was standing by the door in ice frosted clothes, his entire body shivering and teeth chattering from the cold.
 He let Steve herd him up the stairs and toward the bedroom. Tony paused in the doorway as Steve left him to his own devices, retreating once again downstairs.
Tony made short work of shucking off his cold and ice stiffened clothes. He dumped them on the floor into a pile, snow clinging to the fibers. Pants, jacket, socks, and shirt all went into the chilly heap. Riffling through the drawers he pulled out his long johns, a comfy shirt, and some flannel pajama pants. He forced himself to get dressed, to ignore how only one side of the bed was unmade. He also pointedly did not look at his favorite AC/DC shirt and how it had been pulled on over a pillow.
Was Steve sleeping with that pillow at night? Wrapping his arms around it and pretending it was Tony?
Now his heart hurt for a different reason. There was… there was just so much here that was broken between them. It seemed like an insurmountable task to try and fix it, even if he wanted to. Did he want to?
He felt so tired. So drained. And it wasn't just the grueling trip through the blizzard that had done him in. 
He was just emotionally drained. This thing with Steve…it had been going on for a while now. Un-resolved. Unfinished. A constant wound that would not heal. Maybe it was time to lance the wound. To finish this once and for all. To see if what they had could be salvaged, or if they needed to go their separate ways.
The thought was painful enough to steal the breath from Tony’s lungs, his hand clutching reflexively at his chest. He didn't want to lose Steve, but a larger part of him acknowledged that, in a way, he already had.
Tony sighed before closing the bedroom door quietly behind him. Heart heavy, he headed down the stairs only to find the living room empty, fire crackling merrily in the stone hearth. 
“Steve?”
“In the kitchen!” Steve’s voice sounded strained. Tony padded his way through the living room and around the corner. 
Steve sat at the round kitchen table with its red checkered table cloth, his head in his hands and his fingers funneled through his too-long locks of blonde hair. The tacky red checkered cloth because it made Steve feel like they were on a picnic. It was rustic, he had said with that cheeky smile that warmed Tony through and through. He had never been able to deny Steve anything, even something as small as the god awful tablecloth. 
Something brittle crackled inside of his chest as his eyes traced over Steve’s familiar form. At the familiar scene.
 A dozen memories floated hazy and indistinct in front of him. 
Steve laughing as he washed the dishes. 
Steve pressing him up against that counter for a kiss. 
Steve sinking to his knees in front of him with that teasing smile curling on his lips.
Steve showing him how to bake muffins and laughing as he accidentally added too many chocolate chips. The flour on his nose. 
The way they had forgotten about the batter as Steve had bent him over that very kitchen table and..
Everywhere he looked this cabin held memories.Echoes of better days. Impressions of love. 
“Soups on the stove.” Steve mumbled, not bothering to raise his gaze. 
“Thanks.” Tony made his way over to the stove, fishing out a spoon and a bowl from the cabinet and drawer. Steve did make the very best beef stew. Of the two of them, Steve had always been the better cook. 
How long had he been here? How long had Steve been staying in the cabin, surrounded by these memories of better times? Tony couldn't imagine staying here. The memories would be like a punishment. A self flagellation. 
Oh. 
Oh.
That’s why Nat asked him to come here. 
Because Steve was out here alone in the wilds of Maine sad and heartsick and punishing himself. 
Typical fucking Steven Grant Rogers.
Tony…Tony wasn't the only one who was hurting here.
Tony sat down at the table, next to Steve, close enough that their elbows brushed. He ate the stew, which was just as delicious and savory as he remembered, and felt Steve’s gaze trained on him the entire time. 
Avid and wary. Like any second now Tony was going to hurt him or bolt up from the table and run from him. 
Again.
“We should… probably talk. About us.” Tony husked out, pushing the soup away from him. 
Steve said nothing. 
Okay. Well. They were doing this. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“I…I don’t know where things went wrong with us. I’ve never… you’re my person. Everything I did, I did to make you happy. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. And I thought…” he paused. 
His throat was tight. His gaze averted. He could get through this if he didn't look Steve in the face. If he didn't have to watch the realization of what a goddamn failure he was light up in those gorgeous blue eyes. 
“I thought that if I could make you comfortable, spoil you, you wouldnt leave me.” Tony paused again, inhaling sharply. “I was running out of time, you see. We had been together for a few years at that point. And that’s…that’s when people generally get to know the real me. And then they leave.” 
His voice cracked on the last word.  
“Because that’s what people do, Steve. They fucking leave. They leave every time and sometimes they don’t fucking come back. And I just… I couldn't stand for you to be another one of those people in my life. You are too important to me. I didn't mean to make you feel neglected, Steve. My company needed me just as much as the Avengers did. It felt… like I was being torn between two worlds, you know? Who I should be and who I want to be?”
“Tony,” Steve shifted, elbows planted on the table as he leaned in. “I wouldn't care if you didn't have a dime to your name.” Steve whispered fiercely, his gaze piercing with it’s intensity. 
“If we lived in a crappy flat and you didn't have a job. For me, it was never about the money. Or the tech. Or what you could buy me. It was always about you. Only ever about you. And you didn't give me the chance to prove that I would stay before you walked away, Tony. You put so much distance between us that we were virtually strangers. I wouldn't see you for days and then weeks at a time! Not unless there was a mission or the world needed saving. Do you know how insane that is?” Steve sat back, a harsh sigh expelled from deep in his chest.
Tony picked at the fibers of the table cloth with his fingers.
“I fucked up Steve. I fucked up… and I don’t know how to fix it or if it even can be fixed. I don't know how to make things right between us. And if I did…how long would it be before I messed it up again?”
“Tony.” Steve’s voice was soft. Serious. A probing silence fell until Tony lifted his gaze to meet that steady blue eyed stare. 
“Do you love me?”
“Of course I do, Steve. I never stopped loving you. Even when things went wrong. Even as it was all falling apart around us. I never stopped loving you.”
Steve nodded.
“Okay.”
“Okay? That’s it?”
The beginnings of a smirk curled at the corner of his lip. “Yeah, okay. It’s a start Tony. I’m willing to put in the work if you are. You’re not the only one who fucked up. I was a miserable shit to you. I was lashing out, trying to hurt you, trying to tear you down. I just ended up pushing you farther away, I see that now. If I had only sat you down at the table and talked…things could have been different.”
“I’m willing to try to fix this because… this has been the worst six months of my life. I don’t want to lose you.”
Steve reached across the table and laid his hand over Tony’s. Tears pricked in the back of his eyes at the heat of that warm, calloused, palm and the gentle squeeze that accompanied it. It had been so long since he’d been touched by anyone.
He had missed this. A dark sob rattled in his chest, he instinctively tried to pull his hand away as hot tears scalded his eyes. God he was so fucking weak. He didn't deserve Steve’s kindness. He didn’t deserve-
The hand holding his tightened, refusing to let go. 
“No more running Tony.” Steve whispered. And then he was being pulled into Steve’s arms, his head falling naturally into the crook of Steve’s shoulder - his favorite place to be, his nose tucked up against his neck. Steve’s broad hand swept up and down his back in soothing circles.
“No more running.” he agreed, his breath a whisper against the pulse beating in Steve’s throat. 
Unable to help himself, Tony pressed his lips there, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of Steve’s skin. Or perhaps it was the salt of his own tears. He didn't know. He didn't care. And then he was moving, his leg slinging over Steve’s lap so that he was straddling him, his hands fisted in the fabric of Steve’s red flannel shirt. His lips moved upward until he was pressing them against Steve’s. 
The kiss was wet and clumsy. Their teeth bumped together twice before Tony raised his hands to frame Steve's face and took control of the kiss. 
Yes. Yes. 
This is what he had been missing. 
The ache in his chest eased at the hot press of Steve against his thighs, the taste of him in his mouth, the scent of him in his nose. Tony took a shuddering breath against his lips,only for Steve to arch up and nip at his bottom lip with a stinging bite. And then Steve’s hands were scooping under his ass, lifting up, and he was laying Tony down on his back across the table. The bowl and spoon rattled precariously on the edge of the table but neither of them cared, lost in each other as they were. He followed Tony down, one hand supporting the back of his neck, the other cupping the underside of Tony’s thigh until the leg hooked itself around Steve’s waist.
Tony groaned into his mouth, cock incredibly hard and aching. He arched his pelvis, seeking friction against the denim of Steve’s jeans, grinding against the thick length there. Wet sloppy kisses, panting groans and sighs filled the quiet of the kitchen. Tony could feel his blood surging hot in his veins as he gripped Steve’s broad shoulders, one hand moving up to card his fingers through the soft strands of brilliant blonde hair and tugging gently. God he had missed this. Missed the feel of Steve’s skin against his own, the caress of Steve’s hands, the texture of his silky hair as it slid through his fingers.
 His face burned where Steve’s beard rubbed against his, but Tony didn't care. This, this, was what he had been longing for. Aching for. If it were a dream, he decided as a bolt of heat shot right to the base of his aching cock, he never wanted to wake up. 
His other hand trailed over Steve’s chest, feeling the hard planes of muscles through the flannel shirt he wore. Tony’s hand trailed lower, finger tips exploring, until they were tugging at the waistband of Steve’s jeans. Steve’s muffled groan against his lips as Tony’s hand wedged itself into those pants and wrapped around Steve’s length reverberated into Tony’s chest. A wicked smile pulled at his lips as he moved his hand, fondling, exploring, teasing.
“Such a punk.” Steve muttered, his lips pressed to the side of Tony’s neck now, trailing kisses down until he was licking at Tony’s collarbone. His teeth teased Tony’s shoulder, soft claiming bites that had Tony gasping out, arching up into Steve’s mouth even as Steve bucked his hips into Tony’s hand.
“I’ve missed you so much.” Tony husked, his head lolling back as Steve rucked up his shirt, pressing his lips to Tony’s chest, licking and nipping and sucking on his over sensitive nipples. 
“Steve,” Tony panted, eyes half lidded as he gazed at Steve’s bowed head, a puffy pink nipple captured between pearly white teeth. Steve’s eyes absolutely twinkled up at him, his lips curving into a smug sort of smile. “Please, just…”
Steve’s teeth tugged mercilessly at his nipple, wrenching a cry out of Tony, before letting go of the poor abused nipple that had been reddened by his attentions,
“Please what, Tony?” The dark note in Steve’s voice was absolutely wicked. This was the side of Steve that Tony loved bringing out. Everyone thought the supersoldier was some kind of boyscout. They were wrong. Sex with Steve was almost always a gritty, filthy, affair. 
“Fuck me.”
“As you wish.” Steve pulled away and paced across the kitchen. Confused, muscles trembling with need, Tony worked himself up onto his elbows, legs dangling over the edge of the table to stare after Steve’s retreating form. When Steve returned with a bottle of olive oil in hand, a short sigh of relief left him. 
Of course. Lube. Always the gentleman, his Steve. Except for those rare occasions when he had fucked him dry. Because Tony had wanted to feel the burn. 
Tony slumped back down onto the table, the bottle of olive oil thumping down next to his head as Steve made quick work of stripping off his pajama bottoms and long johns. He cried out as Steve fisted his aching cock, the hot heat of that calloused palm tugging up and down in full, long, strokes. Working him up, driving him crazy. Every muscle in his body was tense, taut as a bow string, hands scrabbling at the table cloth as hot cries escaped his lips. 
“I’m going to make you come. Then, I’m going to fuck your tight ass while you squirm on my dick from overstimulation. And then I’m going to make you come again.”
Tony thunked his head back against the table, ignoring the way it made his teeth rattle. 
“Promises, promises, Cap…” he panted, as the hand around his cock tightened, the pace quickening. 
And Steve made good on that promise. He wrung not just one, but two orgasms out of Tony. One from a handjob that Steve drew out- edging him for nearly half an hour, the second from a merciless prostate massage with olive oil slicked fingers. By the time he slid inside of him, Tony was a hot panting mess. His cries were swallowed by Steve’s kiss, Steve’s hips working into his ass in a punishing rhythm. Tony yelped as Steve bent down, moving Tony’s leg up and onto his shoulder so he could work himself deeper and harder inside of him. Steve fucked him like that, right there on the kitchen table, with his ass pulled to the edge, one leg up and the other hooked around Steve’s waist. Steve’s hands at his hips, holding him still, not letting him escape the hot press of cock inside of him. Tony yowled, arched, cried out, but nothing he did slowed Steve’s rhythm. 
He fucking loved it.
Some indeterminable time later, after Steve had made him come yet a third time in a dry pulsing, orgasm, the super soldier finally came to a slow and languid stop - a gravel lined groan rumbling out of his throat. Tony felt every single twitch and jerk of the thick cock inside of him, knew his red,  stretched, hole was weeping copious amounts of Steve’s come.
Exhausted, wrung out, Tony lay limp and boneless on the table as Steve pressed a hot kiss to the shell of his ear.
“On the bright side, I think we ruined the table cloth.”
Steve laughed, chest shaking with it.
“No more running.” Tony whispered. “I love you, Steve.”
“I love you too, Tony.”
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