- - - Chapter 13: Coping Methods II - - - - - - - - -
Bruce only gets his bathrobe halfway off his shoulders before Tony's mouth is on his. The kiss is hard enough to hurt; Tony's stubble burns into Bruce's skin as he lets Tony kick the door shut and fist his fingers through Bruce's hair. Bruce gives up on divesting. He focuses instead on trying to sashay the two of them towards the bedroom without breaking the momentum of their mouths. As they step past the couch, Tony pulls away for a minute and smirks.
"Taking me to your bedroom, Banner?"
"Can't exactly fuck on the couch. My namesake sleeps here."
"Right," Tony says, and, really, it's only been a couple seconds, but every second Tony's tongue isn't slipping against his own is a second wasted for Bruce, so he grabs Tony's tie and yanks their mouths back together they stumble onto Bruce's bed.
Tony lands on top of him, Bruce with his back against the sheets in a way that is reminiscent of the last time they'd spoken to each other. This time, however, there's no punching or yelling. This time Bruce isn't stressed out, for once, only a little embarrassed because he's all but naked under Tony Stark who's wearing a suit that probably costs more than Bruce's rent for a month.
"Why are you even wearing a suit?" Bruce asks, half-gone as Tony drops his mouth from kissing Bruce's lips to sucking new bruises into his neck. "Not that I'm complaining." His voice hitches on the last syllable. Tony grins against his skin.
"It's Gucci. $1250."
"Hot," Bruce says, leaning up on his elbows. Tony's teeth graze against his earlobe. "So fucking hot."
"Me or my clothes?"
The fact that you're a fucking millionaire. That you're sexy. That you have abs and stubble and the prettiest fucking brown eyes and even your smile can undo me, Bruce wants to say, but settles for a breathy laugh and whispering, "D, all of the above."
With a smug smile, Tony pushes Bruce back into the bed and slides up, straddling Bruce's chest and locking Bruce's arms in place with his knees. His crotch is a foot away from Bruce's face, hidden neatly behind pinstriped Gucci couture Bruce really wants to rip off at the moment. Tongue icing over the dried cracks forming on his lips, Bruce diverts his attention back to Tony's face, which is staring down at him.
There's a moment where their breaths synchronize. Bruce can feel his heartbeat in his throat. He glances again at Tony's crotch then back up when he feels Tony's hand teasing the side of his ear.
"You gonna suck me off, Banner?"
"You gonna take your shirt off?" Bruce replies on autopilot, still entranced by the heat of Tony's fingers against his earlobe. Pulling his hand away, Tony raises his eyebrows at Bruce before shrugging and starting to undo his tie.
"You keep talking like that," Tony says, looping the tie off his head and letting the silky fabric fall over Bruce's check, "And I'll end up gagging you."
"With what?"
Tony slides his jacket off, tossing it off the bed. "Well that depends strictly on how good at cock-sucking you are."
"I think I could manage."
"Dunno if managing is good enough, Babblebruce," Tony says, undoing the uppermost button of his undershirt. Bruce watches as Tony's chest bares above him. There are varying incision marks over his heart. Bruce wants to feel them, pinpoint the exact brand of scalpel used to make them, but his arms are locked at his sides at the moment, allowing him to see but not touch in a way that drives Bruce both types of crazy.
Once Tony's shirt is all the way off, Tony chucks it across the room and scoots himself back into place on Bruce's chest.
"My shirt's off," he says. "Now what do you want to do?"
It's power-play, Bruce thinks. Running through every variable in his head—rich, poor, confident, anxious, top, bottom, hot, ugly—Bruce realizes that this is a balance of opposites and that he is more than happy to let Tony take control. Not having to worry about fucking it up at every turn like Bruce had to with Betty sounds erotic.
Back in real-life, Tony's fingers, calloused and long with pristine nails, work over the button of his trousers. Bruce's mouth dries up. When Tony's pants are undone, Tony drops the band of his underwear just below his balls, letting his cock fall out. He isn't hard. Yet.
Bruce motions with his head for Tony to scoot closer. When Tony does so, the head of his cock brushes against Bruce's chin. Bruce swallows the saliva in his throat. Taking a breath in, Bruce crams his neck down, and wraps his lips over his teeth and his mouth over Tony's cock.
Tony has mentioned to Bruce before, while on a tangent about a prior lay, that he likes his blowjobs slow and teasing. Bruce considers this notion. On one hand, there's pleasing Tony. On the other hand, however, there's gagging on Tony Stark's dick and feeling his precum drizzle down your throat. Bruce's cock twitches. Fuck taking it slow.
Bruce works Tony over, sliding his lubricated lips over every inch of his cock, pausing occasionally to suck the precum from the tip. It's hotter (and a couple inches smaller, if Bruce was being honest) than Bruce ever imagined. He can feel Tony stiffen in his mouth, hear the bedframe creak when Tony leans his forearms against it for support. After a few minutes, Tony sits back up, dropping his hands down to grab onto Bruce's hair. The first tug is gentle, testing, and after Bruce rolls his eye's at Tony's lame attempt, Tony yanks his hair forward, forcing his dick into Bruce's throat and Bruce into a fairyland of pleasure.
Bruce feels every strand of his hair tingling against his scalp. The sensation is pointed like acupressure needles decompressing a swelling skull. Tony has the tightness down to a science, tugging hard enough to prickle but light enough to not hurt. Eventually, Bruce lets his neck relax and allows Tony to do all of the work, pulling Bruce head on and off of him until Bruce is certain Tony's cock isn't getting any bigger. At that point, Bruce squirms his arms against Tony's knees to say stop. Tony catches the hint and pulls out, moving down Bruce's figure until their hips are against each other. As Tony lifts his other arm from the bedframe, Bruce grabs it, leaving Tony confused for a second before Bruce twines their fingers together with a sheepish smile. The way Tony Stark's, of all people's, face heats up at the touch makes Bruce's chest bubble.
They stay like that, looking at each other and holding hands, for a few minutes before Bruce clears his throat and breaks their eye-contact.
"So," Bruce starts with a cough. For how much dick has just been in his mouth, Bruce is proud of how collected he sounds. "Penetration?"
Tony snorts. "Quite the romantic, eh?"
"Sorry, but you kind of fucked all the romantic out of my throat with the whole hair-pulling, dick-in-my-mouth thing. Which was super-hot, by the way."
"Mhh," Tony says and leans down towards Bruce's chest, keeping their hands linked together. One benefit of their old position, Bruce thinks, was that Tony didn't have to see Bruce's chubby, broken body. Like this, however, with Tony's fingertips ghosting over his waist and his teeth dragging against Bruce's collarbone, there's no escape. He wants to tell Tony, as Tony's mouth lowers to bite down his chest, to stop, to get off now because Bruce is hirsute and pudgy below his neck, because his stomach sags into exactly three rolls when he sits upright, and because even size large pants leave him with a lump of fat sinking over the waistline.
Before he can speak his mind, however, the fingers from Tony's free hand rub over his lips, edging their way inside and under Bruce's tongue. Bruce tries to forget his discomfort to the sensation of sucking down one, two, three fingers, and to lubing them up so Tony can hopefully turn him over and fuck his ass without having to look at his stomach too closely.
Once Tony's decided he's had enough of mouthing at Bruce's chest and fingering his throat, he pulls his fingers out of Bruce's mouth and moves back between Bruce's legs, unlacing their fingers. Bruce watches as Tony bends over the edge of the bed, effectively reminding Bruce to top the hell out of him if he ever gets the chance, and pulls his wallet from his jacket pocket.
"Don't the condoms get fucked up if you keep them in there for too long?" Bruce says.
Tony scoffs, pulling a golden packet out of the wallet's divider. "I put this in here last week, Bruce. Don't think the condom fairy had time to poke holes in them yet."
"Well, excuse me. Didn't know you were the expert on contraceptive nymphs."
There's a pause.
"Hey, Bruce," Tony then says, voice a few notes deeper. "Put your legs apart."
It's not a particularly unexpected statement, but Bruce bristles from it anyhow. After letting the words seep in, Bruce nods, shifting his head onto the pillow for comfort and hooking his legs around Tony's waist. He hates the position they're in, Tony being able to see every bit of him, but not more than he would hate not getting Tony's dick in him right then.
Meanwhile, Tony slips the last of his trousers and underwear off and pulls the condom over his fingers. Bruce is about to tell him that's not where condoms are supposed to go before he realizes what Tony is planning. It's a nice sentiment on Tony's part, but Tony clearly does not understand that Bruce's cock is miles too hard for foreplay.
"Just get in me," Bruce says. "Seriously. I play with myself regularly enough, and it's not like you're some eight-inch behemoth."
"I'm not going to hurt you, Bruce." Tony sounds halfway between concerned and annoyed.
"Yeah, and I'm not one of your virginal Mary Sues whose never had something in her ass before." Adding that he has made creative use of hairbrush handles, marker caps, and any other phallic object he can fit a latex glove over would be slight overkill, Bruce figures. Instead, he goes for a more classic defense: "Besides, I just got out of the shower. A long shower. A significantly long shower."
Tony cocks an eyebrow before shaking his head. "C'mon. You're supposed to be a pushover that lets me do anything I want. Can't you just do your job?" Tony may be complaining, but Bruce can see him slip the condom from his fingers onto his cock.
"If this is a job, then I get medical benefits, which currently include your dick up me. Don't want to be sued for malpractice, now do you?"
Tony edges forward. "Suppose not."
"Well then. Guess you'll have to—" Bruce's sentence is blocked off by Tony's hand covering his lips and his middle finger slipping into his mouth.
"Shut up, Bruce."
Bruce shutters and nods his head. The fingers Bruce had lubed earlier with his mouth rub over his ass as an additional drool of saliva pools onto him. Closing his eyes, Bruce feels goosebumps crawl up and down his back. He wants Tony inside of him. Now.
"Line me up," Tony whispers into his ear. Trembling, Bruce raises one of his hands from its dead state on the bed and reaches for Tony's cock. He gives it a firm squeeze before aligning it with his entrance. Then Bruce pulls his hand back and waits.
It's obvious when Tony starts pushing. Bruce can feel every part of his lower body trying to relax in accommodation of the very-welcomed dick pushing into him. After Tony's head stretches past his entrance, the rest slides in easily, making Bruce's thighs and calves tighten against Tony's back.
"Oh my fucking god," Bruce muffles through Tony's hand, eliciting a smirk and slight grind from the latter.
"This okay? Good? You can nod, you know."
Bruce responds instead by curling his tongue around Tony's middle finger and sucking in. With a hum of acknowledgement, Tony readjusts himself one last time before starting to move his hips out and in. The rhythm is slow and comfortable, which Bruce is thankful for because if Tony went too fast, Bruce would cum in under a minute.
Once in at a solid pace, Tony starts kissing along the side of Bruce's neck, over the skin behind his ear, and just above the leftmost part of his temple. Their chests are touching, warm, sweaty, bruised skins with a matrix of heat between them. Bruce latches his arms around Tony's back, holding on as Tony gets more confident in his thrusts. As he speeds up, Bruce starts rocking his ass back, meeting every push with a pull and a groan. Tony is overall quiet, but the timbre of his breaths, jagged and airy, is enough to tell Bruce that this pleasure isn't mutually exclusive.
When Tony's close to coming, he drops his hand from Bruce's mouth and braces both of his fists over Bruce's shoulders. Bruce takes this as a clue to start touching his own cock, which is desperate for the attention. Tony then quickens his thrusts, pulling Bruce's shoulders down with every push. His cock hits a place in Bruce that sends a violent surge of warmth through every fiber of his body from the fingernails to the teeth. He keeps jacking all while Tony fucks him, letting the sensations in his ass make his cock all the more pleased as it spurts out the last of its load. Tony lasts a few minutes longer than Bruce, calling out some expletive Bruce doesn't register before pulling out and ripping off the condom to jerk himself off until he cums into his hand. He wipes his hand on Bruce's bathrobe. Bruce is still too gone to care.
"Jesus, Bruce," Tony says, collapsing into the bed-space next him. Bruce, meanwhile, sits up and shrugs the rest of the bathrobe off his shoulders, pushing it to the floor. Once it's out of sight and out of mind, he lies back down in the bed, crawling under the sheets.
"Jesus fucking wishes he could have that." Then after a pause: "You staying the night?" he asks. Tony makes a face Bruce can't read unreadable. Then Tony coughs.
"Yeah, um. Of course. Just don't kick me in your sleep, Blackbelt."
"You've slept with me before," Bruce says. He can feel the blankets shift over his naked body as Tony lays down with him. "It okay if I, like. You know. My arm around you or something?" he asks, turning to Tony who responds by wrapping his own arm around Bruce's shoulders and pulling him closer. Bruce angles himself towards Tony's chest and sprawls his arm and half of his knee over Tony's body. His head fits perfectly in the curve of Tony's neck.
"Night, Tony," he says, squeezing Tony's chest.
"Night, Bruce."
They fall asleep together.