"Fuck," Tony breathed, lips ghosting across the full set under his. Warm brown eyes, pupils blown with lust, raked over the hard planes of the body beneath his. "Fuck," he repeated, "I thought you were supposed to be a virgin." The comment made the other man blush, a full body red flush that started at the tips of his ears and probably ended at the very tips of his toes. There was a chuckle and the other man shifted his kiss swollen lips up to one of Tony's ears, blowing softly and earning a tow curling shiver in return.
"Sometimes," he said slowly, each breath puffing out and caressing the shorter man's ear, "enthusiasm and experience are two different things." Tony's eyes fluttered closed, a silly, girlish thing to do, but Goddammit if he wasn't completely turned on by the blond man standing wrapped in his arms.
"God, I love how you're so damn," Tony paused, searching for the right word. A cluck of his tongue and then a lick up the side of the sort-of-younger-sort-of-older man's neck. "Eager," he finished on an exhale. It made him harder, though how, he'll never understand, to know that Captain America-THE Captain America-was so damn eager to get into bed with America's favourite playboy. A man so against the apple-pie American morals he might as well have been an alien, and he had the symbol of 1940s shy boy-scout do-goodery writhing under his fingers, tongue lashing out against his own in an obscene dance of moaning and spit. God, he could get used to this. He really could.
"Tony, please." It came out as a whine, a goddamn plea and Tony had no choice but to comply. Who could resist a gorgeous, super soldier bent on sucking you down so hard he promised not even the "1941 Stark Turbo Charged Vacuum-matic would ever get him off again." And what is with the dirty talk, Tony wondered. Where the hell did this shy little virgin boy get such a filthy mouth from? His thoughts were cut off when Steve begged him, begged him to let him suck him off some before the main event. Well, who the fuck could say no to that?
And that's where they are when Tony finally stops thinking about how they got to where they are, and what Director Fury was going to think-and Tony never usually gave a shit what anyone would think, but it was Director Fury, one of the scariest men Tony has ever had the misfortune to meet-and where exactly he put his latest experiment in the garage/workroom when Steve makes his way down Tony's body and rips open the front of Tony's trousers, button flying across the room to land under the dresser. Steve hesitates a moment, but only a moment, before he quickly dives in, fingers seeking out Tony's hard cock under the light fabric of his boxers. A quiet groan is stifled by a pair of knuckles between perfectly white teeth.
"No," Steve sighs, grip firm on the base of Tony's cock, breath playing on the tip, moist and hot and so damn close, but not goddamn close enough. "No, I want to hear you. I want to hear how much I make you moan, make you scream. I want to hear my name dribble out of your mouth when all you can think is "Steve" when you come down my throat." Well, if that didn't earn the taller man a hearty moan, nothing ever will. And so Tony takes the fist out of his mouth, instead fisting it in Steve's blond hair when that hot, wet heat surrounds him, and tugs hard enough for the super soldier to look up and see the urgency in those lust glazed eyes.
The blow job starts simple enough. A little sucking, a little licking, a little hand action. But then it quickly turns into the single most erotic thing Tony has ever seen. Steve Rogers, hair is disarray from Tony's fingers gripping it in pleasure; pupils so lust blown, the blue of his irises are mere slivers against the black of lust; red, swollen lips stretched obscenely around the girth of Tony's cock. But the best part was not the way Steve hummed in pleasure, or even the way Steve's cheeks looked hallowed out beautiful around his dick. No, the best part was the way Steve had his large, warm palm around his own erection, pulling and twisting and leaking. And God, was Steve just leaking precome. He was like a fucking faucet. It was so...beautiful. The only word he could use to describe how he saw Steve was beautiful, and he had never used such a...feminine word for describing a man. But that's what it was.
Never before had a man, or even a woman, actually gotten off to sucking Tony's dick. He supposed it was because most of the people he'd ever dated-and even Tony had to scoff at that word-fucked would probably be more appropriate, fucked him because he was Iron Man or Tony Stark, or some shit or another. No one had ever been with Tony for, well, Tony. But here he was, Capt-no. Not Captain America. Here, he was just Steve. Steve, with his big heart and open mind. Steve, who always had his back, even when they got off on the wrong foot. Steve who was doing so many deliciously indecent things to Tony's cock as the shorter man just takes and takes and takes.
This is the moment when Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist comes to the startling realisation that he may feel something other than blind lust for the man kneeling in front of him. This is when he realises that the want to fuck had turned into the want to wake up next to each other tomorrow morning. The need of sexual release turned into the need to just lay in bed on Sunday mornings and avoid the world together. In the ten, maybe fifteen minutes it took to convince Steve to come upstairs with him, Tony Stark has completely re-evaluated his life. He didn't love Steve, not even close. And he was definitely not going to go pick out curtains with him, but he certainly did like the guy a lot. And he could work with that. Tony's worked with worse. So instead of doing what Steve wanted and coming down his throat with a name slipping from his lips, Tony gently pulled Steve away from his cock, the tip slipping out from between his lips with an absolutely indecent pop.
"Steve," and his voice is hoarse and deep. He clears his throat and tries again. "Steve," he manages before the blond super soldier reaches forward with his mouth and engulfs the head of Tony's cock again, imitating that fucking vacuum he was talking about before. And damn, was he right. He'll never look at a fucking Hoover the same way again. He growled and stilled Steve's quickly bobbing head, crying a little inside from the lack of tongue slithering along his dick. "Look, Steve. I'm trying to do the goddamn good-guy thing and tell you how I feel, so if you could kindly stop treating my dick like it's the last popsicle in the world, and fucking listen to me this could go a lot smoother."
Tony's pissed now. The one fucking time he tries to do the fucking good thing to do, and the fucking world conspires against him. Fine, two can play at that game. With a deep rumble in his chest that even he didn't think he was capable of, Tony fisted his fingers into Steve's soft hair and held him steady as the shorter man set up a wicked pace of fucking the poor boy's throat. The younger? older? taller man moaned, hands coming up to squeeze at Tony's thighs. Fuck, just Tony's luck that the blushing virgin likes to get his face fucked. perfect. He's not really teaching anyone a lesson anymore.
'Fuck it,' he thinks, chewing on his lip in a vain attempt to stave off his quickly oncoming orgasm. Its at this moment that Tony decides that talking about feelings and crap and relationships can wait until morning and he just lets go and lets himself feel.
"Dammit, Steve. I'm gonna-" That's all Tony manages before the warmth that was so lovingly wrapped around his dick is gone and he's left with a raging hard on and quickly cooling erection and the thought, 'What the fuck,' running through his head. Steve is on his feet and backing up to Tony's large king sized bed. He fumbles with his trousers for a moment before dropping them completely and stepping out of his shoes and socks to land gracelessly on the bed, a whirlwind of sheets splayed around him. The blond man lifts himself up onto his elbows and smirks at the shorter man, two fingers crooked and wagging a "come hither" motion. Tony practically runs over to the bed. In between the kisses and nips and licks, Steve manages to get his point across.
"Sex first, talk later." And that's all the two of them said for the rest of the night besides "Harder, faster, Steve, oh god, Tony, theretherethere." And it was a glorious night. Right after Steve's blissfully timed statement, Tony really did just shut up and feel. He felt the way Steve pulled his fingers into his mouth and sucked, the way the cold lube warmed considerably when being thrust into the perfect, way too tight ass of a certain blond super soldier. He felt the way his heart sped up when those fingers were sucked in so beautifully.
"Greedy little slut, aren't you?" Tony had said, voice low and husky. Instead of blushing like Tony thought he might, Steve just moaned loudly and thrust down on the shorter man's fingers, impaling himself and spreading his legs wider. "Guess you like dirty talk, huh? Never pegged you for a shameless whore. Maybe I should fuck the whore right out of you. Make you learn who you belong to." If Steve's panting was any indication, Tony would have to say the young man was thoroughly enjoying the dirty bedroom talk.
He also would never forget the way Steve rode him the first time. The way powerful legs lifted that perfectly sculpted body up and down. The way his leaking cock bounced up and down with him as he lifted and gyrated, looking for that perfect angle. When he found it, it was like Christmas had come early.
"Oh, god, god, god, god. Tonyyyyyy. There, right there. Oh, fuck, right there." It wasn't until almost the end with Steve mumbling "Tony, Tony, Tony," under his breath so often it felt like his own special prayer that Tony finally lost it. He flipped their positions and had the taller man on his back, knees up by his ears and was pounding into him so hard, Steve had to reach behind him and steady himself on the headboard. Legs thrown over his shoulder, the angle got him deeper than he had been previously and the change showed on both their faces. Steve's face was slack, pure bliss coursing through him. His lips were still, mind so turned to mush from sheer, unadulterated, pleasure, not even calling out Tony's name was an option anymore. Tony's face was scrunched up, thoughtful, as he rammed into the willing and pliant body beneath his.
As his orgasm was building within him, Tony went to reach for Steve's untouched erection. Seeing his hand moving towards himself, the taller man batted it away, whispering, "I want to come from just your cock inside me." Well that fucking did it for Tony. He was over the fucking edge before he even saw the damn thing approaching. He didn't still, like he normally did. Instead he kept at it, milking his orgasm for all it was worth while also ingraining his semen deeper and deeper into the body beneath his. He still couldn't believe Steve trusted him enough to fuck him bareback. Granted, Tony gets tested every month and he knows he's clean, but the level of trust the younger? younger man has for him is immeasurable. So while Tony is growling and panting and grinding his release into him, Steve is having the fucking orgasm of his life. He made sure he didn't touch his dick at all during, and even when he felt Tony coming, the feeling of the white hot come spurting into his welcoming body was enough to send him over the edge, untouched cock and all.
It was a full twenty minutes later before both of them calmed down enough to be able to speak, and another fifteen for Tony to work up the courage to actually do it.
"So," he said, letting Steve pick up where he so helpfully left off.
"So," the blond replied. Well, this was getting him nowhere. "Look, Tony. I know this is where you usually tell the poor girl to pick up her dignity and go, but do you mind if we just...I don't know. Stay here. Like this. For just a little while." Tony was about to tell Steve that if he even thought about getting out of this bed, he was personally going to see it never left it again, when he figured all the really heavy thinking about feelings and shit could wait until morning when they can both look at it with equal footing and coffee running through their veins.
"Yeah, sure. Come, uh. Come here." And Tony vaguely gestured for Captain America, no Steve Rogers, to come in for a cuddle. Well, dignity be damned, he thought as he spooned up behind the tall blond and gently kissed the top of his head. Steve sighed and relaxed into the hold, going so far as to tangle their legs and pull one of Tony's arms around his middle and snuggle back into the firm chest and cold arc reactor of Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. And he couldn't have been more content than that until Tony said, "Oh, and JARVIS?" There was a small noise of answer before Tony replied, "Make sure the doors are locked and the alarm is set to ten thirty. I want no interruptions, even from Director Fury. I kind of want to sleep in."