A/N: This came to me at 1:30 in the morning. I need sleep.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers!


In MY Office?

Nick Fury is a patient man.

Working at Shield for the past thirty odd years has caused him to see some shit that would make even the toughest of men run home screaming for their mothers.

However, nothing could prepare him for the sight of Captain America, a national icon and a man he's looked up to for years, on his knees with his lips wrapped around the dick of one Tony Stark.

Nothing is going to get this sight out of his head.

"Steve, you're so fucking good," Stark gasps tightening his hold on Rogers hair. "Whomever taught you how to give head is my fucking hero." He thrusts upwards into the other man's mouth and groans. "Yeah, baby, take it all, you fucking slut."

Fury's eyebrow twitches. He doesn't give a shit about what these two idiots do in their spare time and, frankly, it's about time they hooked up. But, did they really have to fuck in his office? Stark's bare ass is squeaking against his favorite leather chair with every movement and the sound is giving him a headache.

The Director, who's standing in the doorway, clears his throat and watches as Rogers immediately ceases his actions, releasing Stark's penis with a loud, wet pop that's going to haunt Fury's nightmares. The Captain fumbles to his feet, wiping his mouth, and trying (read: failing) to cover the tent in his pants while Stark is fully relaxed in Fury's chair. The brunet is leaning back with his dick still hard and standing at attention, wearing a smug look on his face. At least the Captain has the decency to look embarrassed and ashamed.

Fury watches Rogers take a nervous gulp, trying to meet the Director's eye. "Sir—" he begins, voice sounding hoarse. Well, gee, Fury wonders why that could be?

The Director holds up a hand and the man falls silent. "I don't care what you do and with whom you do it. However, I don't want your business all up in my space. Now, put your dicks away and get the fuck out of my office."

Stark sits up, looking like he's going to argue, but one glare from the Captain shuts him. The brunet tucks himself back into his pants and stands, tilting his chin up and walking out of the office like the high and mighty king he thinks he is. Captain Rogers follows skittishly behind him.

Fury pinches the bridge of his nose and enters his office, shutting the door behind him. He walks over to his chair and looks down at it. He sighs. He's going to have to burn it.

Nick Fury may be a patient man, but he honestly isn't paid enough for this.