Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tony’s a few decades too old to be playing Never Have I Ever, but he’d be lying if he said he isn’t enjoying this, everyone together for their first real Christmas party post-Thanos, loose and happy, more than a few drinks in—of both the alcoholic and nonalcoholic variety.

He feels loose, too, almost drunk, but the good kind of drunk. The kind of drunk he rarely was. There’s nothing but grapefruit soda in his shot glass, but the joy of being together with the team after so long, of being whole, Nat with them, right where she belongs, is enough to make him feel almost tipsy.

He fills his glass with another splash of soda, and then settles in for the next question. So far, the game has been innocuous enough, or what passes as innocuous for them, anyway. Never have I ever stolen anything. Never have I ever gone skinny-dipping. Never have I ever tried pot.

Fun, but ultimately boring.

Tony’s waiting until everyone’s proper drunk to start asking the real questions.

It’s Bruce’s turn now, and he’s taking an awfully long time to think of something. Well, they’ve gone a few rounds already. Aside from truly naughty questions, there’s not much else that can be asked. He watches Bruce pause all of a sudden, gaze flitting down at his drink.

Oh, this is going to be good.

"Never have I ever…sucked dick," Bruce says finally. It comes out sounding like a question. Tony snorts.

Rhodey’s shocked "What?" is almost comical.

"I don’t know!" Bruce replies, scratching his neck. "We already covered all other interesting options! It’s just, you know." He shrugs.

Tony snorts again, toasting him.

Then he takes a shot because, you know.

Across from him, Nat takes one, too, winking at him. Next to her, Rhodey and Thor drink too. Unsurprising. Tony smirks at that particular memory with Thor. And next to him—

Tony stills, almost spilling his drink.

Steve’s throwing back his drink too.

It’s—

Tony blinks and then forces his gaze away when he realizes he’s been staring at the long line of Steve’s throat. He looks around the room frantically, but no one seems to have noticed Steve drinking, or seems to even care. As if Steve sucking dick is—

An everyday occurrence.

Maybe it is, and Tony’s the only one who doesn’t know. Maybe Steve has been quietly going through the entire male population of New York City and Tony’s been none the wiser.

It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. Tony’s relationship with Steve is famously, historically—not the closest of the team, although they’d gotten better at being friends over the last year. Rebuilding the city, rebuilding the compound, and most importantly, getting Nat back, had gotten them closer in ways that not even working together on the gauntlet had.

Tony would call them friends now. Probably. Although, friends would probably know if their friend has been sucking dick, or has sucked dick in the past. Tony knows all the dicks his friends had sucked. That’s just—true friendship, in his book.

He shakes himself out of it when he notices himself staring. Again. Steve’s face is turned away, deep in conversation with Sam, but his cheeks are a deep red color. Tony curses himself silently, feeling caught. Looks like the conversation has moved on. No time to think of Steve—doing things to men. With his mouth. And his big hands, maybe.

He drains his shot, the sharp, sweet taste of the grapefruit clearing his mind a little.

The game goes on. Tony barely listens. Images of Steve doing unspeakable things assault his mind relentlessly. He’s in hell. He’s relieved when the game finally ends and everyone disperses to do other things around the room. Rhodey goes to smoke with Bruce and Nat on the balcony, but it’s too cold out for Tony’s liking, so he settles on the couch instead, pulling his phone out.

Pepper has sent him a cute selfie of her and Morgan dressed in their penguin pajamas. It hurts, still, that it’s over, but—Tony is learning to live with it. Every day, it gets a little easier. He and Pepper had always been friends, before anything else.

A shadow falls over him. Tony switches off his phone and leans back—to find Steve looking down at him. He blinks, heart jumping to his throat.

"Hi," Steve says, smiling lopsidedly.

"Hi," Tony replies, clearing his throat.

Steve scratches his neck. "Sorry, don’t mean to interrupt whatever you’re doing. I just—everyone’s out there." He nods at the balcony. He pauses for a long moment. "And we haven’t talked all day, really. So. I figured I’d come say hi."

Tony hums, fighting to keep a straight face. If this was any other day, he’d be overjoyed by Steve coming up to him, but in light of recent events—

Scratch that. They are friends, and Tony’s always happy when Steve seeks him out. He cocks an eyebrow. "Not a fan of marijuana, Steve?"

Steve scrunches up his nose. He’d finally tried it on Halloween for the first time, and hated it. It was a hilarious night.

Tony snorts, patting the space on the couch beside him.

Steve smiles and rounds the couch, plopping down. Their knees touch, purely accidentally, but Tony feels the contact like a shock to the system, tingling up his spine. He crosses his legs, but then Steve unwraps one long arm and puts it on the couch behind Tony’s head, hand just barely brushing Tony’s head.

If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d assume Steve was flirting with him.

But that can’t be. Steve wouldn’t, would he? Then again, Steve now apparently likes sucking dick, so what does Tony know—

Tony pushes the thought away. Steve’s just very drunk. Thor had brought back this awful ale with him from New Asgard, and has been plying Steve with various, dangerous-looking cocktails all night. Tony’s pretty sure he had seen something bubbling earlier.

Yes, that’s it. Perfect explanation.

"So," Steve says, with a smirk. "That was a fun game."

Okay. Tony blinks. Looks like they will talk about it.

"Yeah," Tony replies. Then, before he can stop himself: "Very revelatory."

Steve hums, watching Tony for a long moment. It’s making Tony itch. "You’re a lot more, hmm, reserved than I thought," he says finally, and then chuckles like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever found out about Tony.

Tony’s mouth falls open. "Reserved? What?!"

No one’s ever called him that.

Steve shrugs. "Never went skinny-dipping? Never took part in an orgy? I don’t know, I expected more from the great Tony Stark."

Tony frowns. He knows he is being teased, but damn, if this isn’t bruising his ego. "I mean, at what point is an orgy considered an orgy? Like would a foursome be an orgy, because in that case, I did take part—okay, stop laughing."

Steve covers his mouth with his hand, eyes dancing behind his palm.

"Reserved," Tony scoffs, shaking his head. "Don’t ever insult me like that ever again."

"Sorry," Steve says, eyes crinkling.

Tony hums, holding Steve’s gaze. It’s not fair that he’s the only one floundering, even if he doesn’t really mind being the object of Steve’s good-hearted teasing. But he wants to hit back, wants to make Steve blush and cover his face again, wants—

Well, he wants a lot of things.

Something must show on his face because Steve has stopped smirking, watching him back with a quiet sort of anticipation in his eyes. This is a mistake of epic proportions, maybe, probably, but—

Tony slouches back into the couch, hands on the back of the couch, the picture of casualness. "Why are we talking about me, when you’re the one that’s doing wild things like…" He trails off when Steve’s eyes widen, imperceptibly. Gotcha. A rush of something a lot like euphoria swells up in him. It’s overruling his better instincts. He leans in, letting a filthy smirk appear on his face. "Things like sucking dick."

There, he said it, and he’s even managed to keep a straight face.

Steve doesn’t reply, but Tony can see him visibly swallow. After a long moment, Steve sets his shoulders, a determined look crossing his face. "I don’t think there’s anything particularly wild about enjoying a nice, thick—" He bursts out laughing before he can finish the sentence, presumably at the lock of shock on Tony’s face. He buries his face in his hands after a moment. "God, I’m so drunk. I am sorry, I don’t…" He trails off, peeking out his fingers at Tony. His cheeks are flaming.

Tony decides to have mercy on him. Steve is drunk. There’s no way he would’ve joked about sucking dick otherwise. Although he does have a filthy mouth on him, which Tony had been very delighted to find out. "No, I am sorry," Tony says, grimacing. "I shouldn’t have brought it up. What you do in private, is entirely up to you. Nothing wrong with, uh, you know, sucking dick. I apologize for making you uncomfortable."

Steve waves him away. "You didn’t." He pauses, opening his mouth. Then he shuts it again, which—

"What?" Tony asks, cocking one eyebrow.

Steve huffs out a laugh. "Nothing."

Tony narrows his eyes.

Steve hums, watching him. "I saw you looking at me earlier," he says at length, biting at his thumb. The move is oddly sexy.

Tony’s heart jumps to his throat. "Well, we were sitting opposite each other—"

"I wanted you to see me take a shot," Steve cuts in, holding his gaze.

Tony’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth, all of a sudden, his shirt a size too tight.

He has no idea who this Steve is, and he’s not sure that he’s liking it, being on the back foot in whatever the hell’s going on right now. His gaze flits to the balcony, but no one is looking. Through the sliding glass doors, he sees Thor telling an animated story, hands waving around wildly. Rocket is sitting on his head, looking similarly engaged. No one is paying attention to them.

It’s making him bold. It’s making him stupid.

He trails his gaze back toward Steve, letting it linger on Steve’s mouth. "Why is that, Steve?"

Steve’s breath leaves him in a rush. "Because I want…" He trails off, giving Tony a meaningful look. Oh, and now he’s shy.

Tony wants him to say it. He spreads his legs. "Why, Steve?"

"You want me to say it?" Steve asks after a beat. "Alright, I’ll say it. I wanted you to see me because I want to suck your dick. How about that."

Tony swallows heavily. "How about that," he repeats after a moment. Hardly eloquent, but his mind is stuck, Because I want to suck your dick coming out of Steve’s lovely, red mouth echoing around his brain in an endless loop.

Steve huffs out a quiet laugh in reply. He feels closer, suddenly, although he hasn’t moved an inch. Had Tony? He looks down at where their knees are touching again. His hands are itching to reach out, and, he can reach out, he realizes with a start, because Steve wants him. Wants him enough to be bold. Wants him enough to spread his legs and arms, to look at Tony with heated, dark eyes. But—

He’s drunk. Absolutely sloshed, actually. He wouldn’t say something like this on any other day. The realization hits Tony like a bucket of ice water.

Figures Steve’s just a particularly horny drunk. Tony lets out a hysterical laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s gotten carried away.

They’ve gotten carried away.

"You’re drunk," he says, trying to put some distance in between them.

"I won’t be drunk in ten minutes."

"God, you’re a menace," Tony says, genuinely shocked. Who is this man? "You do this often? Because I’m not sure how I feel being another notch in your belt."

"There’s no one like you," Steve replies, whip fast, like that’s an entirely normal thing to say.

"Fine," Tony says, heart pounding, deciding this on a whim because they are doing this apparently, and he won’t be outplayed. "Meet me in my room in half an hour."

Now it’s Steve’s turn to blink speechlessly at him.

"What," Tony snorts, one eyebrow cocked. "All bark and no bite?"

Steve snorts, his mouth curling into a smirk. "Make it twenty."

The balcony doors slide open with a loud jerk, but neither of them looks away from each other. Tony nods after a moment, oddly calm now that they’re on the same page. "Alright, see you in twenty."

He gets up, not sparing Steve another glance, and moves toward where Bruce and Nat are laughing at the other side of the room. Behind him, he’s sure Steve is moving toward Barnes and Sam. He’s not sure that this is wise, what they’re about to do, in fact, it definitely isn’t, but—

If Steve’s willing to make this mistake, so is he.

They’ve done crazier things.

Chapter Text

Twenty-two minutes later—Tony’s embarrassed to admit that he’s checking his watch with a sort of feverish anticipation he hadn’t felt in years—Steve announces he’s heading to bed, to loud boos from everyone else.

Tony takes a swift gulp from his drink to hide his nervousness. Some part of him hadn’t thought that Steve would actually go for it, but, then again, he knows Steve, knows himself. They’re both pathologically incapable of backing down from a bet.

He takes another sip of his drink, eyes moving around the room. Making his own escape won’t be as easy, unfortunately. Unlike Steve, who heads out whenever and wherever he likes, Tony can’t just disappear before midnight from a party without raising several alarm bells.

No, he has to play this cool, make up a good excuse. He narrows his eyes. Dad duties maybe. That one always works. It wouldn’t even be a full on lie. Tony and Morgan usually talk before Morgan heads to bed when they’re apart, and it’s nearing her bedtime all the way over in LA where she is right now.

He tunes back into the conversation with Rhodey and Nebula when he realizes he’s been silent too long, but following along proves difficult. His thoughts keep straying toward Steve. He shivers when he remembers the easy way Steve had fallen into him, long legs brushing against Tony’s, the way he’d so easily admitted There’s no one like you, like they hadn’t spent a good chunk of their lives keeping each other at arm’s length.

It had felt so natural to just go for it.

Fuck it. He wants this. Steve wants this. That’s all the encouragement he needs.

He waits for a lull in the conversation, then steals Rhodey’s last avocado cheese canapé right off his plate. "Okay, this has been fun, but I think I’ll hit the sack. I promised the pipsqueak I’d call her before she heads to bed, and right now it's her bedtime in LA."

He tries to keep a straight face, waiting for the guilt, but the lie rolls off his tongue easily. Steve’s waiting for him in his room. There’s no room for much else in Tony’s mind.

He can hardly believe it but the excuse works. Heart hammering wildly in his chest, he waves everyone goodbye and heads to his room.

The doors to his room open automatically when he reaches his floor, which saves him from waffling over whether or not to knock on his own door. He finds Steve standing by the bookshelf in the living room, idly perusing his books. "Took you long enough."

Tony kicks off his shoes. "Well, I couldn’t just disappear. Unlike you, old man, I’m not known for going to bed at 10pm. If I disappear before midnight, Rhodey will start investigating if I’m a Skrull."

Steve snorts, abandoning his surveyance of the books and turning toward Tony. He’s removed his jacket, leaving him in a tight, baby blue Henley. God, but he looks so good in blue. Tony has no idea what or who has inspired Steve’s recent transformation, but he’s taken to wearing a lot more blues and reds lately, and it suits him to a T.

With his hair grown out around his neck, the way he’s wearing it nowadays, he’s just—a very attractive man.

Tony swallows heavily, tugging off his suit jacket, and walking toward his kitchenette, anticipation and nervous tension warring in his gut. It’s hard to believe he used to be a pro at this whole casual hook up thing. "Want something to drink?"

Steve makes a sound that sounds a lot like a smothered laugh. "No, thanks."

Well, okay, then.

Tony takes a deep breath, tugging his glasses up into his hair, and says, "Well, come over here, then."

It’s possibly the least sexy way he’s ever come on to anyone, but it does the job. Steve moves toward him. He reaches for Tony at the same time Tony reaches for him, bending his head, and then—their mouths meet, for the first time.

A shiver tingles up Tony’s spine at the first contact, the fine hairs across his body standing on end. He sways into Steve’s embrace, hands scrambling to find purchase against Steve’s skin. He feels it everywhere Steve’s body digs into his.

He’s wondered—of course, he has, he’s only human and Steve’s Steve, but he wouldn’t have ever imagined it to be like this. Steve’s a good kisser, sure and confident, holding Tony close by the jaw.

Tony could lose himself in the kiss, if he’s not careful.

He sneaks a hand into the hair at the back of Steve’s nape and tugs, earning him a low groan. That’s more like it. Smirking into the kiss, he leads them backward toward his bed with both hands wrapped around Steve’s neck. They land on the mattress with a soft thud, mouths still fused together.

He frees one hand to tug off his glasses and put them somewhere on his bedside table, then sneaks his hands back under Steve’s shirt, reveling in the way Steve’s strong, muscular back feels under his hands. "Off with this."

Steve complies, going up on his knees to remove his shirt and fling it off to the side.

Tony’s mouth falls open.

He’s seen Steve half naked countless times, but it’s something else entirely watching him get undressed for Tony. He doesn’t bother hiding his appreciation, reaching out a hand and trailing it over Steve’s flank up to the hard smoothness of his pecs. The skin pebbles under his touch.

Tony lightly flicks a nipple, and smirks anew at the stifled gasp Steve lets out. Then his hand wanders lower, circling Steve’s trembling belly button. He can feel himself trembling too. If he moves any lower, he’d have Steve’s cock under his hand, half hard in his jeans already. He swallows, fingers moving down—

"Now, you," Steve cuts in, voice coming out hoarse.

Tony’s hand twitches away. He meets Steve’s gaze and nods. He’s studiously not thinking about what he might look like to Steve as he’s reaching for his shirt. He knows he’s good-looking, alright, but it’s been ages since he’s been intimate with anyone. Not since Pepper. And the scars. Steve will hardly be scared off by some scars, but—

Tony tugs off his shirt, mad at himself for worrying, and lays back down.

Steve’s breath rushes out of him, eyes tracking over Tony’s exposed body. He bends down to kiss Tony again, hands reverently trailing over Tony’s shoulders, at the ugly, raised scars there, his soft stomach. Tony imagines him murmuring, You’re so beautiful, suddenly, eyes intent, and has to laugh.

"What?" Steve says, eyes flitting over Tony’s face.

"Nothing," Tony replies. He can’t explain it, how this is simultaneously the most nerve-wracking and funny and comfortable sex of his life, and they haven’t even properly started. He arches one imperious eyebrow. "Go ahead."

Steve narrows his eyes playfully, and bends his head to mouth at the sensitive skin of Tony’s jaw. Tony sighs, and rolls his head to the side, hand coming up to idly draw along Steve’s shoulders, his sculpted biceps. He’s not usually one to lie back and let things happen, but he likes this Steve, and he finds himself curious. He’ll stay put, for now, and let Steve do his thing. Work his magic.

He has to snort again at the thought, but he can’t deny it. Steve’s got game.

"Okay. What’s so funny?" Steve says, nipping at his jaw.

"Just—" Tony shrugs one shoulder, waving a vague hand around. "You know."

Steve hums. "Yeah."

He watches Tony for a long moment, expression inscrutable. Tony tugs him up for another kiss before he decides to open his mouth and say anything more incriminating.

Steve shivers against him when Tony’s fingers slide back into his hair, which—is an interesting reaction. One time is coincidence, two times is a pattern. He pulls away and tightens his hold in Steve’s hair, watching for Steve’s reaction.

Steve shudders against him, eyes fluttering shut. Tony smirks triumphantly, pulling Steve in for another sloppy, wet kiss. He’s quickly getting addicted to the feeling of Steve’s soft hair underneath his hands, to seeing Steve so free and unselfconscious with his reactions, when he’s usually so careful with his body.

Tony only reluctantly lets go when Steve begins moving lower, mouth wandering down Tony’s throat to his chest, leaving light, teasing kisses along the way. It’s making his skin prickle, goosebumps rising up all over his skin. His cock feels heavy in his jeans. He reaches down and gives it a squeeze, just enough to get the edge off.

Steve eventually settles on his stomach in between Tony’s spread legs. Tony lifts his lower body when Steve reaches for the fly of his jeans, letting him tug them off, along with his underwear, and then he’s bare, finally, cock flushed and hard, all for Steve.

Steve’s eyes flit to his. The look in his eyes is so full of undisguised want, Tony’s gut clenches in helpless arousal.

He reaches out to touch Steve’s jaw, thumb trailing over his plump lower lip. Heat flashes through him when Steve’s mouth opens around the pad of his thumb, just a fraction, enough for Tony to slip in. His breath leaves him in a rush. He wants—

He wants to feed Steve his fingers, wants him to groan around them, to drool around them, mouth full. His thumb slips in further and Steve lets it, mouth slack, eyes never leaving Tony’s.

Tony lets out a low curse, drawing his hand away after a moment. His cock lies heavy on his stomach, leaking and neglected. He twitches one hand toward it and then buries both hands in the sheets beside his body, knuckles white against the burgundy satin.

Steve’s mouth curls into a smirk.

It’s the only warning Tony gets before Steve lowers his head and, eyes never leaving Tony’s, gets his mouth around the sensitive head of Tony’s cock. Tony almost bites his lip bloody, trying to hold in his gasp. His hands twitch toward Steve again, almost on their own accord. He curls them into the sheets, nails digging into his palm.

Steve hums absentmindedly and tilts his head to the side, tracing the thick vein that runs along the curved side of Tony’s cock with his tongue. He’s good at this, exploratory and teasing, his hand sure on Tony’s dick. Tony wonders who he’s done this for, jealousy and awe mingling in his chest, and then Steve repositions and warm, hot heat engulfs his cock, and all other thoughts fly out the window. "Fuck," he gasps out.

Steve’s eyes flit to his. His pupils are blown wide, just from spending a few minutes lapping at Tony’s cock. Tony reaches out a hand and flicks an errant strand of hair off his face, then brushes his hand against Steve’s hollowed cheeks, feeling himself bulging in Steve’s mouth. Steve hums, slowly lowering his head, and then—

The moan that tears out of Tony when Steve’s nose hits the skin of his stomach is far too loud in the quiet of the room. He scrabbles for purchase, one hand burying itself in the sheets, the other landing on Steve’s shoulders. Steve makes a low sound around Tony’s entire cock, hollowing his cheeks.

Tony curses, nails biting into the meat of Steve’s shoulder. Steve draws away and goes down again, taking him impossibly deeper. His eyes find Tony’s again, and Tony stills at what he sees. Steve almost looks—like he’s waiting. Waiting for what?

Tony breathes in and out, once, twice.

Then he lets his hand wander along Steve’s nape up to the back of his neck. He’s not going to push, he’s not an asshole, but, god, how he wants to dig his fingers in, wants to be the only thing Steve feels and sees and tastes.

Steve lets out a shaky breath, eyes flicking toward Tony. Alright. Tony swallows heavily and tightens his grip.

Steve goes pliant under his hold, fingers and mouth loosening on Tony’s cock. Fuck.

"Is that what you want?" Tony asks, gut clenching. He knows it is. He can feel Steve’s pulse beat erratically underneath his fist.

Steve nods, squeezing his eyes shut.

Tony tightens his hold around Steve’s hair and pushes down experimentally, and Steve just goes, with a low groan, mouth slipping around Tony’s cock, taking him in deeper. He’s good at this, keeping still, keeping his body loose. Tony bets he could move him anywhere he wants and Steve would go, no questions asked.

The thought sends another surge of possessive jealousy rushing through him. He can’t help himself. Heart pounding, he blurts out, "Is that why you grew your hair out, hm? So that men can push you anywhere they want? Down their—"

Steve stutters, and then moans, obscenely loud, hand and mouth going slack against Tony’s cock. Tony curses, tugging Steve up to face him, cock slipping out and landing with a plop on his stomach. "Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are like this?" It feels important to tell Steve, it feels important that Steve knows.

"Tony," Steve gasps out, his cheeks a blotchy, bright red. "Please, I want…" He trails off, blinking up at Tony with glassy eyes.

"I got you, baby," Tony murmurs, brushing through Steve’s hair. "I know what you need."

This time, he doesn’t wait for Steve, he simply reaches for his cock and feeds it back into Steve’s waiting mouth. Steve goes down, beautifully, hands loose on Tony’s stomach.

He waits patiently, his nose is buried in the curls on Tony’s stomach.

Tony knows what he needs.

He gathers the loose hair at the back of Steve’s neck into a more secure hold, and pushes down at the same time as he’s twitching his hips upward. Steve lets out a loud groan, barely smothered by Tony’s cock. "Fuck," Tony gasps out. "Are you—"

Steve’s eyes lock on his. The challenge in his gaze shuts Tony up. He tightens his hold and does what he’s wanted all along, what Steve is waiting for him to do. He moves Steve the way he wants, again and again and again, listening to him breathe in short, gulping breaths through his nose, listening to him enjoy this, body falling lax in Tony’s hold.

When he experimentally holds Steve down on his cock, for just a moment, Steve lets out another low moan. Fuck.

He lets Steve breathe for a moment, then does it again. Heat spreads upwards from Tony’s belly to his chest at Steve’s breathless pliancy. "I am—" he begins to say, hands scrambling to separate them, but Steve shakes his head, fingers digging into Tony’s flank.

Fuck.

Tony comes like that, holding Steve down, or maybe Steve’s the one holding him down, and Tony’s the one at his mercy. He has no idea, and he doesn’t care. He comes into Steve’s lovely mouth, and then sags back into the sheets, blinking up against the ceiling.

Nobody speaks for a few seconds. Tony relinquishes one hand when his cock slips out of Steve’s mouth, and pulls it over his face, the lights in the room suddenly too bright. Steve shifts against his stomach. Tony rolls his head to the side, and meets his gaze. The sight of his head propped up against Tony’s stomach is oddly sweet after everything they’ve done.

Tony reaches out and brushes a hand over Steve’s forehead, his wet, plump mouth. "You okay?"

Steve nods.

"I wasn’t too rough?"

Steve shakes his head. "It was good. Very good." A beat. "Did you like it?"

Tony almost laughs, but it’s an honest question. He nudges Steve under his chin. "It was perfect. Come up here."

Steve smiles, and moves up. His mouth tastes like—well, it tastes like cum, there’s no other word for it.

Tony’s nose wrinkles. Not a taste he’s ever particularly cared for, but then again, it’s Steve, and Tony’s quickly finding out that kissing Steve is his favorite thing to do. He reaches in between their bodies, fumbling with the fly of Steve’s jeans, but Steve stops him before he can reach in.

"Sorry," Steve says, sheepish. "I already came."

Tony blinks at him.

Steve shrugs. "I can get hard again in a minute."

"Oh, yeah?" Tony asks, shrugging off Steve’s hand and sneaking his hand down Steve’s pants. Even soft and sticky, Steve’s dick feels amazing in his hand. Tony squeezes lightly, acquainting himself with the feel of it.

Steve does get hard again after barely two minutes, which is both hot and could be a problem for future Tony. He smirks and flicks his wrist at the upstroke, listening for Steve’s hitched gasp. "What do you want?" he murmurs into Steve’s ear. His mouth waters at the thought of getting to wrap itself around Steve’s cock.

"Just—just like this is good."

Tony hums, giving Steve’s dick a squeeze. Steve turns his head to kiss his jaw. Then he whispers, "Speak to me."

Tony hums. "Want me to tell you all the things I wanna do with you?"

"Yeah," Steve gasps.

"Well," Tony says, clearing his throat. "Right now’s pretty straightforward. I want to see you come undone, see if it’s anything like the way I’ve imagined it." He chuckles at Steve’s groan, teasing the sensitive skin of the head of Steve’s dick with two fingertips. "But I want to do all sorts of things with you. Want to return the favor with my mouth and hands. Make you come, once, twice, and then I’ll get you hard again and have you fuck me, as long and as hard as I want, because you want to make me feel good more than anything else, don’t you?"

Steve’s breath leaves him in a rush. "Fuck."

He chuckles at Steve’s breathless reply, and lets one hand sneak down the back of Steve’s jeans. Impulsively, he trails one finger down, grazing Steve’s hole. Steve bites down on his jaw. "And I want to fuck you, too, of course," Tony murmurs. "Want to feel you fall apart on my cock—"

Steve groans, pupils blown wide with want, grinding full-body against Tony. "Tony."

"Bet you look so good writhing on my cock," Tony gasps out, his own spent cock twitching. He’s seeing it in his mind’s eye, taking Steve apart with his mouth and hands, and then getting him on his cock, and making him come again, because God knows how many times Steve can come—

Steve grabs him by the jaw and kisses him hard, and then he’s coming, in hot, wet spurts across Tony’s hand.

He slumps down on Tony, rather heavily, in the aftermath.

"Ouch," Tony says, but he doesn’t really mind. Steve’s weight feels good on him.

"Sorry," Steve says, rolling away. He pats around on the floor until he grabs hold of a piece of clothing and cleans Tony’s hand with swift, fast strokes. Then he throws it over the side of the bed and lies back down, head on Tony’s pillow. One hand comes carefully down to rest on Tony’s chest.

Tony wonders if he’s planning on staying, or if Tony’s about to fall asleep and wake up to an empty, cold bed. The thought makes his stomach turn over in anxious knots. Steve keeps watching him, eyes betraying nothing about his intentions.

"You staying?" Tony asks finally, when the silence becomes too loud.

Steve’s body goes rigid. "I mean, it’s—late," he replies at length, which can mean all sorts of things. His eyes shift away from Tony, over to the side of the bed, as if cataloging how fast he can get dressed.

Tony swallows, willing his heart to remain calm under Steve’s hand. There’s no one like you flashes through his mind, out of nowhere. "You’re welcome to stay, if you want," he says, putting a hand over Steve’s on his chest. "I think I might have a spare toothbrush." He looks down the length of Steve’s body. "No clothes that fit you, though."

A tentative smile spreads across Steve’s face. "That’s fine. I prefer sleeping naked." He laughs at the look on Tony’s face. "If you don’t mind."

Tony snorts. "I think I can live with that."

Steve’s smile widens, body curling in closer to Tony. Tony rolls around to face him, and their mouths meet again, easy as that. He can feel his eyes droop after a few lazy, aimless kisses, but he’ll hate himself for sleeping without brushing his teeth tomorrow. They disentangle and move to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Tony expects it to feel awkward, getting back into bed afterward with the lights turned off, but it’s almost scary, how easy it feels, sharing space with Steve. He reaches for Steve again, because he can now, brushing his fingers through the soft hair on his nape. Steve’s hands wander under his sleep shirt, fingertips trailing over Tony’s back.

"This is nice," Tony says, watching Steve in the near darkness.

Steve smiles. "Yeah."

"...but I’m weird about sleeping next to people. At some point in the night, I will kick you out of bed. Please do not take it personally. I very much want you here, it’s just...I like my space." He’s meant for it to come out jokingly, but it’s the truth. Aside from Pepper, he’s never wanted to share his bed with anyone. But with Steve here—

With Steve here, it works somehow.

Steve snorts. "Noted. Anything else I need to know?" He smirks. "Got any preference on being the big or little spoon?"

"Nope," Tony replies, letting his hand teasingly wander down Steve’s spine. "Pretty versatile in that regard."

Steve smirks. "Lucky me."

When Tony rolls over eventually after the kisses trail off, because sleeping facing someone is never not weird, Steve fits himself against Tony’s back, hands wrapping loosely around Tony’s middle. Tony expects to feel caged in, but—it’s nice. He’s comfortable, warm, freezing feet nudged right in between Steve’s calves. Steve doesn’t even complain, even though it can hardly be comfortable for him.

Tony could get used to this.

"Night," he says, thumb brushing over Steve’s knuckles.

"Night," Steve echoes, his cold nose bumping into Tony’s neck.

Tony shivers, but he likes the feeling. He takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes, letting Steve’s even breathing lull him to sleep.