He wakes up about an hour later, becoming aware first of a comfortable weight on his chest, and then of an arm around his side, and then somehow his brain connects those clues and he realizes with a sudden deep contentment that Tony is still curled up around him.

He shifts slightly, extending his legs carefully into a satisfying stretch, and then he closes his eyes again, resting his face against Tony's hair.

There's something about being slept on, being slept with – that weight of another person anchoring him. It's calming.

He doesn't manage to go back to sleep but he doesn't get up either. He finds himself just laying there, watching Tony sleep. Admiring him up close, taking in his face. Wanting to know it for the little parts of what it is, all of the pores and bumps and divots, and for what it becomes as a whole, the personality that shines through even as he's laying almost completely still.

He's so beautiful.

Tony shifts a little, and then he makes a small noise, and Steve thinks maybe he should look away before he wakes up, pretend he hasn't just been staring at him, but he doesn't. There's a little rush in that, feeling like he doesn't have to hide his adoration.

Tony just looks up at him, slow, blinks. Smiles. "We should go to sleep again," he says. Yawns.

Steve frowns. "Are you getting sick?"

Tony shakes his head, his hair rubbing itself into a mess against Steve's shirt. "Say 'why?'"

Okay. He smiles. He can play along. "Why?"

"Because," Tony says, looking sleepily into Steve's eyes. "I like waking up next to you."

"That would have been cuter if you followed the script," he adds, almost immediately.

Steve grins. "I'm sorry."

Tony struggles to push himself up so he can kiss him on the side of the mouth, his hand pressing a little too hard into Steve's chest, but he doesn't even care. "I guess I'll forgive you."

"You guess?"

"If you'll make it up to me," Tony says.

"What'd you have in mind?" He's prepared to laugh, prepared for something ridiculous and cute. Prepared to talk his way out of it.

"How about a massage?"

"Oh," Steve says. That sounds nice, actually. "Okay. Right now?"

Tony yawns again, leaning a little more heavily against Steve's chest. "Give me a few minutes. I'm comfortable."

"I've never given anyone a massage before."

Tony shrugs. "Nothing to it. Just do this –" he squeezes Steve's arm, "but all over. Start with my shoulders. Like you're trying to flatten me out."

Steve nods. Pretends that was at all helpful.

Tony pulls off his shirt, prostrates himself on the bed, and then he wiggles out of his boxers too.

And now he feels even less prepared.

Steve just kneels next to him and puts his hands on Tony's shoulders. That feels wrong. He straddles him instead. Careful to make sure he's not sitting on Tony's bare ass, to make sure most of his weight is on his knees.

Grabs him firmly by the shoulders and presses down with his thumbs.

"Ow, shit no, not that hard," Tony says immediately, arching up underneath him. Making firm contact with everything that had been carefully hovering above him. "Fuck, like twelve percent of that."

Steve swallows. It's okay. He's not used to - it's okay. Tony's okay. He checks. A couple times. Until Tony's rolling his eyes and threatening him.

He tries again.

"Oh, yeah," Tony moans. "Just like that. God that feels good."

Steve still feels awkward, not sure how long to focus on one place, where to move, when, but he gets used to it as he goes. Settles into a rhythm. Starts to feel like he's good at it.

Tony moans with almost every other touch and sometimes it seems like innocent pleasure but mostly it sounds dirty, makes him think of how Tony moans when he fucks him.

He doesn't want to admit it but it's turning him on, his breath getting a little quicker, and he tries to be proper and composed but it's hard to when everything about this is making him want to undress and fuck him, now. Give him a real reason to moan like that.

He can't believe that thought crosses his mind. It's… inappropriate. There's a time for that, maybe, but it's not now.

He bends over and presses his lips to Tony's neck anyway. Continues massaging his back, moves down his sides and kisses his spine. Isn't sure if there's a line that he's crossing, but Tony seems to be enjoying it and that gives him comfort.

He pauses when he gets to Tony's butt, lets his hands caress but keeps his mouth in more neutral territory. Pauses entirely, because just having his hands there is turning him on even more.

There's a few seconds silence, and then. "You have my permission to do whatever the hell you want to my ass," Tony says. "But if you don't massage my legs at some point I'm gonna be disappointed."

Steve swallows and moves his hands down to Tony's thighs. Realizes that he's getting hard and his crotch is very close to Tony's knee and he straightens up, quickly. He really wants to fuck him. That's a good thing, right? That's how he's supposed to feel. Just… not now. Not when they should be intimate in a different way.

"Whatever the hell you want," Tony repeats, bending one knee to brush his foot against Steve's butt. "Forget the legs."

Steve moves his hands to Tony's calves and Tony sighs, heavily, the exasperated, impatient kind of sigh.

Maybe he's over thinking it.

"Okay," Steve says, his mouth twitching into a little smile. "I get it."

"And?"

Steve smiles. There's a sort of power to this that excites him, that he has Tony stretched out underneath him and an invitation to do whatever he wants, to see him, feel him. He runs his hand up Tony's thigh to where it hits the generous curve of his ass and down the slope of his hip. And then he does the same on the other side, his hands pressing and smoothing as though he's shaping Tony's ass himself. As if he could have made something so wonderful.

He spreads Tony's cheeks and brushes his thumb over the soft, pink puckered skin and his cock jumps. Sparse, dark hair radiates out in a circle from what can't even be fairly called a hole yet, and Steve likes, in particular, the way that his tongue will leave those hairs laying flat on the white skin, framing an entrance for his cock.

Tony clears his throat and Steve takes that to mean he should go as slowly as he wants.

"Patience," he says, lowering his face to Tony's back, breathing against his skin and licking up his spine.

"Asshole," Tony says.

"That wasn't very nice."

He doesn't have to see Tony's face to know he's rolling his eyes. "It wasn't an insult, it was a suggestion."

"That's not very romantic," Steve says, feeling almost giddy, playful, and maybe this isn't very sexy of him, but it's fun.

"Asshole."

He licks Tony's neck, savoring the shiver, and breathes into his ear, trying to make it sound commanding, sexy. "What'd I just say?"

"That time it was an insult," Tony says, clearly only amused, turning to share a grin and a kiss with him.

The angle is a little uncomfortable but it's worth it to kiss him while getting to feel Tony's back – Tony's ass – underneath him, and when he lets Tony's mouth go he kisses up his jaw, down his neck.

Tony grunts, halfway between contentment and impatience and Steve smiles with lips still pressed against his skin.

"I'm getting there," he says, caressing over Tony's trapezius muscles, down to what he thinks are the latissimus dorsi, and then to his quadriceps, skipping entirely over an important section because he loves the sound of Tony's protest.

He restrains himself at first, settles for pressing his lips against Tony's thighs, but he quickly makes his way back upward, sucking, licking, spreading Tony's cheeks with his hands and now the moans sound like they're in just the right context.

He didn't realize how much he missed this. Doesn't know how he could miss something so simple and maybe disgusting as tasting him like this, but he did. He closes his eyes and presses his face into Tony's ass, lets the moans wash over him and god it feels good.

Once Tony's slick and open and gasping, he grasps him by the ass, spreads him until his asshole is as open as it'll go. He thrusts between his cheeks, pressing down with one hand so that the head of his cock almost catches as it passes over the wet, puckered hole, so it feels like he could be inside of him at any second.

"Do you have lube?"

"Do I have lube?" Tony asks, sounding almost offended. "At your apartment?"

Shit. "I don't have any."

"You don't have any lube." There's definitely some judgement there.

"I didn't think I would be –"

"You don't have any lube," Tony repeats. "Nothing. Butter? Olive oil? No, never mind, that's a horrible idea."

Steve thrusts between his hand and Tony's cheeks again, softer, experimental. "This works for me," he says, mostly joking.

Tony just rolls onto his side. "On your back."

"What?"

"Get on your back. Lay down."

Steve hesitates.

"You just went down on me, the least I can do is return the favor."

Steve complies in an instant, is on his back before he can let himself fully think about it. Tony towers above him for a moment, slipping him out of his boxers and then his shirt, and Steve tries to seem cool and nonchalant even as he forgets to help by lifting up his arms because he's too busy thinking about what's about to happen.

And then Tony wraps a hand around his dick, licks along the length of it and he thinks he misinterpreted.

But then Tony moves down, his tongue and then his lips caressing Steve's balls, and then he goes even lower, sucking on the skin just beneath them and Steve's breathing gets a little heavier, already anticipating the moment when Tony's tongue slides just a little lower.

It's different than he's been imagining. Better. Less. The way Tony likes it he'd think it was mind blowing, but it's not, really. It's just good. Sensitive, pleasant, kind of dull. Not at all like his dick.

But the implication – that this is sexual, that his asshole is sexual, something to be licked and teased and… penetrated. That has him rock hard.

He doesn't even consider that it's gross, not right away, he's just thinking that it's like when he's done it to Tony. Except Tony washed himself first, he'd never surprised Tony when he wasn't ready, even just now it's clear Tony was somehow expecting this and god, he can't believe he's letting this happen.

He jerks back, breaking the contact, almost hitting his head on the wall as he props himself up on his elbows. "I didn't wash – I'm not clean," he blurts, heart pounding as he realizes just how disgusting he must be.

Tony looks up at him, tongue deliberately still hanging out of his mouth, and then, slowly, he laughs, soft at first, and then he's leaning against Steve's thigh and shaking and Steve still feels a little disgusting but it's hard to watch Tony laugh and not smile.

"I mean it," he says, the importance of his statement somewhat undercut by his slight laugh.

"You took a shower before breakfast," Tony says. "It's been a couple hours. And, more importantly, I am the one with my face in your ass, so I feel like I am uniquely qualified to make a call here. You have nothing to worry about."

Steve swallows. A shower isn't enough, is it? There's – gotta be more that you have to –

"Face in ass," Tony repeats, . "Trust me. Okay?"

Steve exhales heavily. Okay. He can – okay.

"You need to relax," Tony says, pressing his teeth into Steve's thigh. It feels surprisingly good. "Okay? This isn't special."

Not to him.

Tony seems to catch himself, rolls his eyes. "Not like that," he says, and then licks over the spot where his teeth just were. "I meant, it's just you and me having a little fun and there's absolutely nothing to get so tense about."

"I wasn't tense."

"You weren't." Tony nods. "And that was great. And now you are, and this is less great, do you see what I'm saying?"

Steve nods.

"So you want me to keep going."

"I –"

"With the assurance that you smell and taste amazing, and I just want to bury my face between your legs forever and this little conversation we're having is me exercising self control – which, by the by, might want to get a picture of because I hear it doesn't happen often –"

"Okay," he says, with a little laugh that does manage to relax him a little. "Okay, you convinced me."

"So you like it?"

Yes. Yes, absolutely yes. "Mhmm."

"So you want me to keep going."

"Yes."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Tell me what you want me to do."

And that seems a little excessive, because Steve has already told him it's okay. "What you were doing before."

"Well," Tony says, grinning up at him. "I guess we'll work on the dirty talk later."

Oh. He feels suddenly all the more naked as he realizes what Tony was actually asking, disappointed and just a little embarrassed because he could have. Said something sexual. About having his asshole licked. Probably.

Oh. Yes, he could say something sexual about this. Can feel something sexual, can feel Tony's facial hair against his skin, rough, contrasted with the soft, slick slide of his tongue, and oh, boy, this is good.

It's not just that, it's also Tony's hands caressing his thighs and his abs and even up to his chest, Tony's hands lifting underneath him and pulling him flush against his mouth. It's how Tony presses his teeth into Steve's thigh as a hand slides over his cock and down his side, and he shivers and oh, yes. More.

Then Tony pushes against him with his tongue, hard, like he's trying to get inside of him and Steve moans without meaning to, breath rushing involuntarily into his lungs, as the rest of his muscles clench.

"Relax," Tony whispers, breath hot against his balls and he's almost shaking just from the thought of Tony's tongue inside of him. God, he wants that.

"Hold yourself open for me," Tony says, guiding Steve's hands to his ass. He pulls gently apart, his face growing hot because this is a whole new level of participation.

Tony licks him again, and then his tongue gets hard against him and he manages to stay relaxed and open up for him, precum dripping on his abs, his breath coming in short little bursts and –

He's not ready for Tony to back off, before he can make an assessment. Before he knows if he even knows how it feels. Is startled when Tony's tongue slides away and brushes over his finger, when Tony sucks on his knuckle, knows that Tony licking his finger should be less sexual, at least a little. But it doesn't feel that way. Not at all.

Tony takes his time, exploring with tongue and hands and by the time he returns to Steve's slick asshole he's almost forgotten what it felt like to have something forced into him. He gasps as the memory becomes reality again, blushes as he feels his muscles loosening in ways they're not supposed to.

And Tony's hands feel like they're everywhere, anywhere, rough and then soft in just the right moments, caressing him, supporting him, and Steve feels like he's given himself completely over to him.

Tony's tongue enters him again and again, short little thrusts that seem to get deeper and he tries to decide how he feels about this, how it feels, but he's not sure, it's strange, it's like nothing he's felt before, but he can't say if it feels good, just that he needs it to keep happening.

It feels okay, for sure, at least okay. But what really gets Steve is the idea of penetration, the pure gut-punch feeling of being taken.

Tony backs off again, puts his hands over Steve's and pushes them apart, just a bit. He'd forgotten he was supposed to be doing that.

"D'you think you could take my finger?"

Steve swallows, can hardly stand how hot that sounds. There's an 'okay,' dancing on his lips, he wants to say it, but it keeps getting stuck between what he wants and what he should want and the absolute pleasure in his groin at the thought of that and the absolute shame he knows he would feel after.

But he's already going to feel that, anyway.

"Next time," Tony says.

"Okay," he says, finally, but it has a different meaning now.

Tony just keeps licking, sucking, keeps pressing his tongue inside of him and biting up his thighs and running hands over him, mixing in brief, firm pressure on his cock which reminds him how much his body is enjoying this. And then Tony stops, and he automatically makes a noise of protest.

"My jaw can only take so much," Tony says, with an apologetic grin, moving it from side to side with an exaggerated motion like he's trying to stretch it out.

He crawls up against Steve's side, presses against him, kisses him, hard and deep and Steve can't taste himself on Tony's lips but he imagines that he could and that's almost all it takes.

And now he gets a chance to run his hands over Tony's body, to run his hands along the length of his cock, and oh, it feels so good in his hand.

Tony's lips ghost against his, hovering close but not quite touching, his nose brushing against Steve's nose and against his cheek, breath hot against his lips. Steve's not sure if he wants the kiss or if he just wants to keep wanting it, to stay caught up in the suspense of almost. Knows he wants to keep feeling Tony's hot, heavy breath on his face. Knows he's too focused on his hand on Tony's cock and his cock in Tony's hand to exert the effort necessary to kiss, even to close his lips. And so he breathes against Tony's cheek, Tony's neck, and Tony does the same, feels the same, must be feeling the same thing that he is and isn't that everything he could want for him right now, to know this same magnificent feeling, to share it.

Tony finishes first, Tony whose hands have been all over Steve's body, who has been giving rather than receiving for most of this time and that thought, that realization, that Tony gets pleasure just from Steve's enjoyment pushes him speedily past the finish line.

And then.

And then he inhales, and exhales, just a heavy as before but now the effortless rhythm is gone, now it's a controlled, measured breath.

And then he doesn't feel so great about what they just did. About the disgusting thing he just let Tony do to him.

Then it seems like a bad idea.

Tony cups Steve's face between his hands, looks him in the eyes. "Hey," he says. "I love you." And that doesn't really help, but maybe it does, the words swell through him like warmth and it's not great but it's not terrible either.

He wraps his arms around Tony's back, pulls Tony's warm, naked body tight against his, holds him close and when he does that it's hard to remember why this could possibly be wrong.

Except that the weird slick sensation has stopped being arousing, and is quickly getting uncomfortable and a little itchy.

Tony kisses him on the neck, making him shiver. "Shower with me?"

"Pardon?"

"Oh, it's a modern invention, it's like water, and then you –"

"I know what a shower is."

Tony wrinkles his nose. "Are you sure? I mean, I didn't want to say anything earlier, but you kinda smell –"

"Hey," Steve says, indignant. "You just told me I didn't."

"Okay, fine," Tony says. "It's not like you're going out anywhere."

Going out. Oh no. He completely forgot.

"I have to go," he says, sitting up too fast. "I promised Theresa I'd meet her for dinner."

"Well," Tony says. "All the more reason to shower."

"I'm not kidding."

Tony raises his eyebrows. "Yes, but… now?"

"I – what time is it?"

Tony glances at his watch. "Eleven thirty."

"In the morning?"

"No, it's dark outside," Tony says. "Yes, in the morning. Which you could have realized had you glanced at even one of these two windows. If you were trying to get rid of me, lunch plans would have been a better idea."

"Oh," Steve says, exhaling. "Okay. Good."

"I must be really boring you if you think it's that late."

"No," Steve shakes his head. "We just slept a lot, and –"

"Shh," Tony says. "I'm teasing."

"I'm not trying to get rid of you. I don't want you to leave." Ever, if he could help it.

"So relax," Tony says, stretching. "Better yet, cancel, and spend the whole day in bed with me."

"I'm not canceling," Steve says, and Tony pouts, looks up at him through his eyelashes.

"I'm still not canceling."

"So bring me with you."

"I can't do that." It's the obvious answer, like he's saying that the sky is blue.

And yet Tony frowns. "Why not?"

"Because it's – because –" he knows he can't do that. He just can't figure out how to express it. "You'd attract too much attention."

"So I'll wear a baseball cap and glasses."

"That's not –" he trails off.

"Going to work? Of course it will. It always does."

Steve swallows and he shouldn't say this but the thought of bringing Tony along, the implications of bringing Tony along and what she'll think, well – "that's not the problem."

"God," Tony says, sitting up. "That really bothers you, doesn't it? The thought that anyone might think you're fucking another man."

"It's not about you."

"No, obviously. I have enough self esteem to realize that I'm not an embarrassing person to be seen with."

Steve's not sure what to say to that.

"So what gives? It's the 21st century now, you can be gay, it's okay."

Steve shrugs. "Okay."

"Did something happen to you?"

No. That's the problem. Nothing's ever happened to him and he's still scared. Always been a coward.

"Steve?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing ever happened," he says. "Ever. I made sure of that. I was a coward, and I still am. I just don't have an excuse anymore."

Tony sighs, rolls his eyes like he's getting tired of him. "Okay, let's try that again without the bullshit."

It's a fair point, probably.

Tony just stares at him, expectant.

Steve shrugs. "I fought a lot of guys, for a lot of reasons. And I took more than I could sometimes but I always knew that they would stop. Eventually. That no matter what I did they wouldn't kill me. Not intentionally. A lot of 'em wouldn't even hurt me that bad. Just toy with me a little."

Tony frowns at him like he's on the tip of asking where this is going, but he doesn't

"I knew of lots of guys who weren't afraid and nobody did anything to them. But I knew of guys who got killed, too. And I just… couldn't trust that it would be okay. I knew that if it got out that I was queer, that one day I'd get in a fight and the other guy just... wouldn't stop."

He doesn't look at Tony because he doesn't want to see pity and he doesn't want to see derision, and he's not sure which one would bother him more.

"I know it's not true, anymore, but I still feel it. I wish I didn't."

There's a long pause and it makes him really hear the words and they sound so irrational. He shakes his head. "It's okay. You can come with me."

"Great," Tony says, kissing him on the forehead and getting up, stretching. "Shower with me?"

"I –" Steve's thrown by the sudden resolution. They're supposed to – well, what, exactly? Talk until he starts crying? "My shower can't fit both of us."

"Don't be a negative nancy," Tony says, tugging on his arm.

"I barely fit."

"Trust me," Tony says, pulling him and pressing him toward the shower, into the shower, stepping in with him so they're both wedged against the walls, pressed chest to chest, almost no room to maneuver.

Tony's the first one to smile but Steve gives in and laughs first, and Tony grins and kisses him.

"I refuse to admit that you were right," Tony whispers.

So Steve turns the water on and grins as Tony yelps at the cold. And then Tony digs his fingers into Steve's shoulder and Steve laughs again.

Tony runs his hands over Steve's hips in a way that ten minutes ago would have been sexual but now is only sweet, caring.

Steve smiles and rests his chin on Tony's shoulder, against his neck.

He can't imagine how he thought it was a good idea to break up with him, how he can manage to be uncomfortable about loving him. How he'd ever thought he could go on without Tony in his life, now that he's had him in it.