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cap_ironman2013-12-30 03:17 pm
cap_ironman_fe) wrote in cap_ironman2013-12-30 03:17 pm
Secret Santa: Acquisition
Wonderful Winter: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cluegirl
Title: Acquisition
Rating: Explicit
Universe: Ambiguous - MCU with 616 Elements
Warnings: D/s, Bondage, H/C, PTSD Related Panic Attack, Bro/Mentor Natasha & Steve,
Potentially Part of a Much Larger Universe, Potentially Unsafe BDSM Practices, Dom!Tony, sub!steve
From: Starknakedpatriot
Steve is kneeling, he’s folded his hands in his lap, palms up, the way Natasha showed him. He’s taking deep breaths through his nose, trying to calm himself. He can hear water slowly rolling through the fountain behind him, and he uses it to focus, .letting himself fall into a light meditative state.
I promise. I’ll be good.
He knows he can free himself at anytime. He wants to slink out, to pick up his clothing where it’s folded neatly on Tony’s Starks desk, and bolt back to his quarters with his tail between his legs. But he’s relinquished his power, given himself into Starks hands, a decision consciously made the second he stepped foot in the man’s personal quarters.
He can hear Natasha whispering in his ear. “Don’t believe everything you read, but believe this, he wants you.”
His wrists are bound with thick leather cuffs -- soft and supple, because Tony Stark is a man who appreciates the little details.
His knees burn where they’re rubbing against the pile carpet. He’ll be lucky if Tony doesn’t toss him out on his ass, But Jarvis has yet to set off any alarms, so he assumes this is ok. He takes a deep breath, and listens.
Tony doesn’t use the front door, he enters from the landing pad outside. The only other way in and out involves retina scans, fingerprints, full body x-rays, and any number of other invasive tests. Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes are the only ones with the overrides.
Steve came in from the landing pad -- with Natasha’s assistance -- Her hack gave him just enough time to access Stark’s suite, about thirty seconds.
When Tony finally touches down, he skips the landing pad altogether, heading straight toward Steve. He’s got a plastic bag in his hands. He tosses it on the couch, not caring where it lands.
Steve bows his head.
He can hear the hiss as the faceplate opens. “I should throw your pert ass out of my home, right now.”
Tony sounds furious.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”
Steve’s trembling. “Punish me he says.” He wants to look up, defiant. Steve Rogers isn’t a supplicant.
Tony’s eyes flash, and he grabs Steve by the hair. The pressure, when it comes, is gentle for an Iron Suit, but tears still well in Steve’s eyes as Tony drags him forward toward his desk. Steve scrambles to keep up, skin dragging against the carpet in a swift, hot burn.
“Stay here while I get out the suit. We’ll talk when I get back,” Tony says, sharp. His tone final.
Steve waits almost an hour, humiliation washing over him. He doesn’t move a muscle.
When Tony returns, his olive skin is damp from the shower, he’s wearing jeans and a soft looking band shirts. His hair is spiky, and he looks deceptively harmless.
Tony grabs the bag off the couch, and sits in the chair next to Steve. “Never come in here without my permission again.”
Steve lowers his eyes.
Tony watches him as he unpacks the bag. His meal is light, grilled chicken, greek yogurt, nuts and grapes, and small pieces of cheese. He picks up the cheese and holds it out, looking at Steve expectantly.
Steve’s face burns with humiliation, and he begins to reach for the fruit.
Tony’s eyes narrow.
Steve catches himself just in time, hands returning to his lap. He takes the piece of cheese delicately between his parted lips, letting Tony feed him.
Tony makes a soft sound of approval, and takes a piece of chicken for himself. He eats slowly, occasionally pausing to let Steve eat. Feeding him small, choice tidbits.
Steve eats the grapes carefully, his thirst prompting him to chase flavor on Tony’s fingers.
Tony pushes the grapes to the side and feeds them to Steve slowly, between bites of grilled chicken.
When he’s finished, Tony swivels toward him, a curious expression on his face. “Do you even know what you’re doing Rogers?”
Steve nods once.
Tony eyes him warily, “I’m going to need you to elaborate. Do you know the rules? Do you know what a safeword is?” He laughs then, and it’s not kind.
“I know you like this,” Steve says.
Tony opens his mouth to say something.
“I want this.” He does look at Tony then, challenging.
Tony arches an eyebrow.
“You used to do scenes. It’s in your intel. You can’t deny this thing, whatever it is, between us. It’s something we need to work out.” He knows he’s got that stubborn expression on his face, which isn’t something he should probably be doing right now.
But Tony just looks amused. “So you want me to fuck you up a little? Work you over? And I thought I was the messed up one.”
“So what if I like it,” Steve snapped, “there was always something good about it, fighting bullies, getting roughed up, getting… getting fucked after.” Steve could feel the harsh scrape ask he exhaled, anger forcing the air out of his lungs in a quick surge, a combination of acute arousal and aggression verging on fight or flight, twisting his stomach into small knots.
Tony leaned forward, interested. “I must confess, I’m a bit shocked, Cap.”
“It was never a secret,” Steve barked. “I was always scrappy, high on adrenaline, Bucky enjoyed it, we both did. I liked to be held down, needed to… to be punished for biting off more than I could chew.”
Tony laughed, bright and clear, the first expression of genuine amusement since he’d landed outside.
Some of the tension left Steve’s body in a cold wash.
“We’ve got rules now, Steve. I’m going to need a safe word. Bare minimum.”
“Bucky.”
“If I were a lesser man, it might bother me that your safeword is some other guy you fucked,” Tony growled.
Steve frowned. “He’s not just some other guy, Stark, he’s the guy who protected me.”
For a moment Stark’s expression went pained. Then it was gone, like Steve had imagined it.
“Are you up for a scene today?” Tony asked, his expression carefully neutral.
“Yeah,” Steve said, eager. If he didn’t do this today, there might not be another chance. He’d talked to Natasha, trained with her. She’d taught him words like owner, master, pet. He’d tried to make her stop at anything that sounded like genuine commitment, it wasn’t going to happen, so why lie to himself.
Pepper Potts was the only woman Tony’d ever been serious about. If Steve was lucky, he could have a few nights, but he’d have to do everything right the first time. Tony’s eyes tracked his movement, the scrape of his knees on the carpet, the bit of hair that had escaped his neat part, where Tony’d mussed it.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“If I’d known you were planning this, I’d have been better prepared, Tony said, fingers scratching lightly against the wood grain on his desk. “I don’t exactly have a dungeon in New York.”
“But, I thought…”
“Look Rogers, I don’t care what the tabloids say, I’ve been in a relationship for the past few years, and Pepper isn’t into play, beyond a bit of light spanking, which is more than I should be saying, as a gentleman.”
Tony grabbed his shirt by the hem, sliding it up over his head. Steve watched the play of muscles, the soft line of dark hair, trailing below the waist of his jeans.
Tony wadded up his shirt and flung it at Steve with a sharp wrist snap.
Steve snatched it out of the air.
“Fold that neatly, then crawl into my room and put it on the bed. If I go in there later and it’s wrinkled, I’m going to take it out of your ass.”
Steve hesitated. Tony slid into his personal space in a flash, landing a stinging slap on his ass. He flushed and crawled toward Tony’s room, aware of his cock swaying heavily between his legs. He can feel Tony watching him like an itch between his shoulderblades.
Tony follows Steve into the bedroom, toeing off his shoes as he walks, sliding one finger under his belt buckle and slipping it free. “Again, you’ll forgive me for the accommodations, but we’ll have to make do.”
There’s an exercise bar hanging from the ceiling, so Tony can do chinups in the morning, he’s got the arms for it, that’s for damned sure, Steve thinks appreciatively. When he looks back at Tony, Tony’s holding Steve’s handcuffs in one hand.
Steve bows his head, holding out his wrists, and Tony slides the leather back into place on his wrists.
“Place your hands on the bars, Steve,” Tony says, his voice low and menacing.
Steve steps up to the bar, gripping the cold metal in both hands.
Tony climbs onto the bed, and slides his belt through the cuffs, jerking roughly until Steve is perched on the balls of his feet, off balance enough that he can really feel the stretch in his calves. Steve’s toes scrabbling for purchase.
Tony wraps the belt around his wrists, and secures it in place. “Don’t worry, Captain, it’s handcrafted, short of ripping the bar out of the wall, you’re not going anywhere. Then he drops to the bed and grabs his tablet off the table. “Hang around.”
Steve tries to twist, tries to see Tony, and Tony swats him once, sharply in the ass. He doesn’t try again.He hangs there, listening to Tony laugh at some cartoon called Tiny Toons, while the muscles in his legs begin to tremble. A sense of peace washes over him. The burning fades, and the cartoons turn to white noise. But the time Tony hits the clicker, he feels glazed over, loose.
Tony grabs his chin and looks into his eyes. His lips quirking upward.
Steve stares back at him, stares through him. He wants…. he wants….
Steve’s startled by how loud the sound is when Tony finally slaps him across the face, rubbing his hand to dull the sting.
Steve swings toward him, body taunt like the string of a bow.
“Mmm,” Tony hums. “Good.”
“Natasha sent you up here without a contract?”
“She… uh,” Steve struggled to form words. “Said you wouldn’t.. not the first.”
“Yeah, well, that’s a calculated risk, based on the assumption that I’m a decent man.”
Tony sounds bitter.
“No, Tony, you’re not.”
“Did I say you could talk?” Tony hissed.
“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this. I pictured something a little classier, dinner, finger fucking you against the wall of some swanky theater, taking your virginity on a bed of white rose petals. Something a bit more Pretty Woman meets the Bodyguard.”
Steve frowned up at him. What the hell was he waiting for? They both wanted it. Tony could have what he wanted without the societal necessities, and Steve could feel something again, for a little while.He wished Tony would just get on with it. He wished it would never end.
“It’s just sex, Captain. Easier this way.” Tony ran a calloused hand over Steve’s flank.
He walked to the men’s room and came back with a thick leather belt. “If we do this again, we’re negotiating your limits. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Tony.” Steve frowned.
“Safe word?”
His eyes fluttered shut, “Bucky.”
“If I were petty, Rogers, I might mind that your safe word is another man you fucked.”
Steve glared at him. “Bucky protected me everyday of my life, it’s the least I can do.”
Steve heard it coming. The flat leather band blazed across his ass in a thick burst of warmth. He grunted, and precome dripped from the tip of his cock. “Don’t speak out of turn,” Tony snapped. “If I want you to talk, you’ll fucking know.” Tony shoved a hand between his thighs, spreading his legs further apart.
This time when the blow landed, it felt like there was blood rushing to every part of his body, like molten liquid and opiates dragging him under. His limbs felt heavy. His cheeks burned. His whole body was on fire.
“Next time I’m going to build you something Captain, Tony snarled. And I won’t give you the satisfaction of coming until it’s fucked you loose and sloppy. Would you like that? Slap Something to match your strength? Slap To hold you down. Slap You’ll be so violated, warm and open, dripping. Begging me to fuck you.
Steve moaned.
Tony dug a fist into his hair and yanked hard. “You’ll enjoy it, and then I’ll brand you with my name? Would you like that? Make you mine.
Steve wanted to sob. It would fade. He jerked as a sob tore it’s way out of his chest.
Tony chuckled darkly. By the time he finished, Steve’s back was covered in thick red stripes. Tony licked a swath right down his spine and blew cold air against his sensative skin. It felt so good, Steve almost came on the spot.
“I’m going to release you now, Captain, and then I’m going to fuck you. When climbed back onto the bed and reached for the leather binding Steve to the bar, his hands grazed Steve’s face, and Steve’s eyes widened. His teeth began to chatter as he stared at Tony’s fingers. He felt so cold, he couldn’t stop shaking.
Steve felt Tony jerk, startled, then he was hanging naked over a precipice, and someone was reaching, reaching out to him, and he couldn’t, he was too cold, and he couldn’t reach their outstretched hand...
Steve heard someone scream Bucky’s name, high and anguished, and with a cold start he realized that it was him. He struggled. There was something binding his hands. He couldn’t reach, he wasn’t going to be able to save Bucky.
Swearing, he wrenched his wrists down. He felt metal giving under his hands and he fell.
Someone was screaming his name.
When he woke his fingertips were icey cold, and his whole right arm felt numb. His back felt like it was on fire, and weirdly that was what helped him breathe in and refocus. He ached everywhere. Someone needed him. They’d been calling, hadn't they?
He opened his eyes.
“Steve, are you with me?”
Dark hair. Bucky.
“I hear you Steve, I hear you, Bucky. It’s ok, you’re safe. Do you know who I am? Do you know where you are?”
Tony’s worried face came into view and Steve blinked trying to focus. “Tony,” he slurred. “Stark, your tower. Avengers tower.”
Tony crawled closer to him. He had a blanket in one hand, and a bottle of water in the other.
Steve let him tilt the bottle and pour a little into his mouth. He choked, startled by how icy it felt. “Coouh, too cold,” he managed.
Tony’s eyes widened. “Ok, no worries. I’ve got this. Here,” he wrapped the fleece blanket around Steve, and let Steve dig his fingers in, clutching the soft fabric to his chest. “Two seconds, ok, gimmy just, hold on.”
Steve stayed quiet, staring out the window. He counted the seconds passing, then Tony was back, holding a warm thermos in his hands.
Steve started to reach for it, but Tony just guided his hands around the bottle, tilting it up to his mouth. “Chicken broth,” he explained.
It felt so good. Steve knew in some small corner of his mind, that this was aftercare. That Tony was doing this out of obligation, not affection, but Steve had been taking care of people so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to have Bucky wrap him in a warm blanket, to have his mother use some of her own ration cards so he could have something hot to eat after a particularly bad asthma attack.
Tony’s hands felt so warm.
He lost track of time for a few seconds, and then Tony was helping him sit on the couch, curling up around him so they could share body heat.
“What do you need?” Tony’s fingers through his hair felt gentle. He remembered in a panicked flare, he’d screwed up, he’d screwed up everything. Then Tony’s hands were there, soothing.
“Shh, shh. It’s ok Winghead. Don’t fight it. Stay under. You’re fine.”
“I messed everything up,” he managed.
“Hey, no. We’ll try again, we’ll establish some guidelines ok. You did good. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Next time?”
Tony pulled Steve toward him, until his head was resting in Tony’s lap. “Yeah, next time. What do you need me to do? We can do whatever you want.”
“This is good,” Steve said.
Tony kept carding his fingers through Steve’s hair.
“Hey Tony,” Steve said.
“Yeah.”
“Can we watch Steam Boat Willie? Ma took me to see it once, when I was little.”
“Yeah Steve.”
Tony almost sounded fond. Steve wanted so much to belong to this man, to have more moments like this, but he was here, in the now. It felt so good to be touched, and Tony was holding him like he mattered, watching old cartoons with him. He tried not to fall asleep, tried to draw it out, but Tony’s fingers were so gentle in his hair that he drifted off, hoping that when he woke up, Tony would still be there.
cluegirlTitle: Acquisition
Rating: Explicit
Universe: Ambiguous - MCU with 616 Elements
Warnings: D/s, Bondage, H/C, PTSD Related Panic Attack, Bro/Mentor Natasha & Steve,
Potentially Part of a Much Larger Universe, Potentially Unsafe BDSM Practices, Dom!Tony, sub!steve
From: Starknakedpatriot
Steve is kneeling, he’s folded his hands in his lap, palms up, the way Natasha showed him. He’s taking deep breaths through his nose, trying to calm himself. He can hear water slowly rolling through the fountain behind him, and he uses it to focus, .letting himself fall into a light meditative state.
I promise. I’ll be good.
He knows he can free himself at anytime. He wants to slink out, to pick up his clothing where it’s folded neatly on Tony’s Starks desk, and bolt back to his quarters with his tail between his legs. But he’s relinquished his power, given himself into Starks hands, a decision consciously made the second he stepped foot in the man’s personal quarters.
He can hear Natasha whispering in his ear. “Don’t believe everything you read, but believe this, he wants you.”
His wrists are bound with thick leather cuffs -- soft and supple, because Tony Stark is a man who appreciates the little details.
His knees burn where they’re rubbing against the pile carpet. He’ll be lucky if Tony doesn’t toss him out on his ass, But Jarvis has yet to set off any alarms, so he assumes this is ok. He takes a deep breath, and listens.
Tony doesn’t use the front door, he enters from the landing pad outside. The only other way in and out involves retina scans, fingerprints, full body x-rays, and any number of other invasive tests. Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes are the only ones with the overrides.
Steve came in from the landing pad -- with Natasha’s assistance -- Her hack gave him just enough time to access Stark’s suite, about thirty seconds.
When Tony finally touches down, he skips the landing pad altogether, heading straight toward Steve. He’s got a plastic bag in his hands. He tosses it on the couch, not caring where it lands.
Steve bows his head.
He can hear the hiss as the faceplate opens. “I should throw your pert ass out of my home, right now.”
Tony sounds furious.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”
Steve’s trembling. “Punish me he says.” He wants to look up, defiant. Steve Rogers isn’t a supplicant.
Tony’s eyes flash, and he grabs Steve by the hair. The pressure, when it comes, is gentle for an Iron Suit, but tears still well in Steve’s eyes as Tony drags him forward toward his desk. Steve scrambles to keep up, skin dragging against the carpet in a swift, hot burn.
“Stay here while I get out the suit. We’ll talk when I get back,” Tony says, sharp. His tone final.
Steve waits almost an hour, humiliation washing over him. He doesn’t move a muscle.
When Tony returns, his olive skin is damp from the shower, he’s wearing jeans and a soft looking band shirts. His hair is spiky, and he looks deceptively harmless.
Tony grabs the bag off the couch, and sits in the chair next to Steve. “Never come in here without my permission again.”
Steve lowers his eyes.
Tony watches him as he unpacks the bag. His meal is light, grilled chicken, greek yogurt, nuts and grapes, and small pieces of cheese. He picks up the cheese and holds it out, looking at Steve expectantly.
Steve’s face burns with humiliation, and he begins to reach for the fruit.
Tony’s eyes narrow.
Steve catches himself just in time, hands returning to his lap. He takes the piece of cheese delicately between his parted lips, letting Tony feed him.
Tony makes a soft sound of approval, and takes a piece of chicken for himself. He eats slowly, occasionally pausing to let Steve eat. Feeding him small, choice tidbits.
Steve eats the grapes carefully, his thirst prompting him to chase flavor on Tony’s fingers.
Tony pushes the grapes to the side and feeds them to Steve slowly, between bites of grilled chicken.
When he’s finished, Tony swivels toward him, a curious expression on his face. “Do you even know what you’re doing Rogers?”
Steve nods once.
Tony eyes him warily, “I’m going to need you to elaborate. Do you know the rules? Do you know what a safeword is?” He laughs then, and it’s not kind.
“I know you like this,” Steve says.
Tony opens his mouth to say something.
“I want this.” He does look at Tony then, challenging.
Tony arches an eyebrow.
“You used to do scenes. It’s in your intel. You can’t deny this thing, whatever it is, between us. It’s something we need to work out.” He knows he’s got that stubborn expression on his face, which isn’t something he should probably be doing right now.
But Tony just looks amused. “So you want me to fuck you up a little? Work you over? And I thought I was the messed up one.”
“So what if I like it,” Steve snapped, “there was always something good about it, fighting bullies, getting roughed up, getting… getting fucked after.” Steve could feel the harsh scrape ask he exhaled, anger forcing the air out of his lungs in a quick surge, a combination of acute arousal and aggression verging on fight or flight, twisting his stomach into small knots.
Tony leaned forward, interested. “I must confess, I’m a bit shocked, Cap.”
“It was never a secret,” Steve barked. “I was always scrappy, high on adrenaline, Bucky enjoyed it, we both did. I liked to be held down, needed to… to be punished for biting off more than I could chew.”
Tony laughed, bright and clear, the first expression of genuine amusement since he’d landed outside.
Some of the tension left Steve’s body in a cold wash.
“We’ve got rules now, Steve. I’m going to need a safe word. Bare minimum.”
“Bucky.”
“If I were a lesser man, it might bother me that your safeword is some other guy you fucked,” Tony growled.
Steve frowned. “He’s not just some other guy, Stark, he’s the guy who protected me.”
For a moment Stark’s expression went pained. Then it was gone, like Steve had imagined it.
“Are you up for a scene today?” Tony asked, his expression carefully neutral.
“Yeah,” Steve said, eager. If he didn’t do this today, there might not be another chance. He’d talked to Natasha, trained with her. She’d taught him words like owner, master, pet. He’d tried to make her stop at anything that sounded like genuine commitment, it wasn’t going to happen, so why lie to himself.
Pepper Potts was the only woman Tony’d ever been serious about. If Steve was lucky, he could have a few nights, but he’d have to do everything right the first time. Tony’s eyes tracked his movement, the scrape of his knees on the carpet, the bit of hair that had escaped his neat part, where Tony’d mussed it.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“If I’d known you were planning this, I’d have been better prepared, Tony said, fingers scratching lightly against the wood grain on his desk. “I don’t exactly have a dungeon in New York.”
“But, I thought…”
“Look Rogers, I don’t care what the tabloids say, I’ve been in a relationship for the past few years, and Pepper isn’t into play, beyond a bit of light spanking, which is more than I should be saying, as a gentleman.”
Tony grabbed his shirt by the hem, sliding it up over his head. Steve watched the play of muscles, the soft line of dark hair, trailing below the waist of his jeans.
Tony wadded up his shirt and flung it at Steve with a sharp wrist snap.
Steve snatched it out of the air.
“Fold that neatly, then crawl into my room and put it on the bed. If I go in there later and it’s wrinkled, I’m going to take it out of your ass.”
Steve hesitated. Tony slid into his personal space in a flash, landing a stinging slap on his ass. He flushed and crawled toward Tony’s room, aware of his cock swaying heavily between his legs. He can feel Tony watching him like an itch between his shoulderblades.
Tony follows Steve into the bedroom, toeing off his shoes as he walks, sliding one finger under his belt buckle and slipping it free. “Again, you’ll forgive me for the accommodations, but we’ll have to make do.”
There’s an exercise bar hanging from the ceiling, so Tony can do chinups in the morning, he’s got the arms for it, that’s for damned sure, Steve thinks appreciatively. When he looks back at Tony, Tony’s holding Steve’s handcuffs in one hand.
Steve bows his head, holding out his wrists, and Tony slides the leather back into place on his wrists.
“Place your hands on the bars, Steve,” Tony says, his voice low and menacing.
Steve steps up to the bar, gripping the cold metal in both hands.
Tony climbs onto the bed, and slides his belt through the cuffs, jerking roughly until Steve is perched on the balls of his feet, off balance enough that he can really feel the stretch in his calves. Steve’s toes scrabbling for purchase.
Tony wraps the belt around his wrists, and secures it in place. “Don’t worry, Captain, it’s handcrafted, short of ripping the bar out of the wall, you’re not going anywhere. Then he drops to the bed and grabs his tablet off the table. “Hang around.”
Steve tries to twist, tries to see Tony, and Tony swats him once, sharply in the ass. He doesn’t try again.He hangs there, listening to Tony laugh at some cartoon called Tiny Toons, while the muscles in his legs begin to tremble. A sense of peace washes over him. The burning fades, and the cartoons turn to white noise. But the time Tony hits the clicker, he feels glazed over, loose.
Tony grabs his chin and looks into his eyes. His lips quirking upward.
Steve stares back at him, stares through him. He wants…. he wants….
Steve’s startled by how loud the sound is when Tony finally slaps him across the face, rubbing his hand to dull the sting.
Steve swings toward him, body taunt like the string of a bow.
“Mmm,” Tony hums. “Good.”
“Natasha sent you up here without a contract?”
“She… uh,” Steve struggled to form words. “Said you wouldn’t.. not the first.”
“Yeah, well, that’s a calculated risk, based on the assumption that I’m a decent man.”
Tony sounds bitter.
“No, Tony, you’re not.”
“Did I say you could talk?” Tony hissed.
“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this. I pictured something a little classier, dinner, finger fucking you against the wall of some swanky theater, taking your virginity on a bed of white rose petals. Something a bit more Pretty Woman meets the Bodyguard.”
Steve frowned up at him. What the hell was he waiting for? They both wanted it. Tony could have what he wanted without the societal necessities, and Steve could feel something again, for a little while.He wished Tony would just get on with it. He wished it would never end.
“It’s just sex, Captain. Easier this way.” Tony ran a calloused hand over Steve’s flank.
He walked to the men’s room and came back with a thick leather belt. “If we do this again, we’re negotiating your limits. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Tony.” Steve frowned.
“Safe word?”
His eyes fluttered shut, “Bucky.”
“If I were petty, Rogers, I might mind that your safe word is another man you fucked.”
Steve glared at him. “Bucky protected me everyday of my life, it’s the least I can do.”
Steve heard it coming. The flat leather band blazed across his ass in a thick burst of warmth. He grunted, and precome dripped from the tip of his cock. “Don’t speak out of turn,” Tony snapped. “If I want you to talk, you’ll fucking know.” Tony shoved a hand between his thighs, spreading his legs further apart.
This time when the blow landed, it felt like there was blood rushing to every part of his body, like molten liquid and opiates dragging him under. His limbs felt heavy. His cheeks burned. His whole body was on fire.
“Next time I’m going to build you something Captain, Tony snarled. And I won’t give you the satisfaction of coming until it’s fucked you loose and sloppy. Would you like that? Slap Something to match your strength? Slap To hold you down. Slap You’ll be so violated, warm and open, dripping. Begging me to fuck you.
Steve moaned.
Tony dug a fist into his hair and yanked hard. “You’ll enjoy it, and then I’ll brand you with my name? Would you like that? Make you mine.
Steve wanted to sob. It would fade. He jerked as a sob tore it’s way out of his chest.
Tony chuckled darkly. By the time he finished, Steve’s back was covered in thick red stripes. Tony licked a swath right down his spine and blew cold air against his sensative skin. It felt so good, Steve almost came on the spot.
“I’m going to release you now, Captain, and then I’m going to fuck you. When climbed back onto the bed and reached for the leather binding Steve to the bar, his hands grazed Steve’s face, and Steve’s eyes widened. His teeth began to chatter as he stared at Tony’s fingers. He felt so cold, he couldn’t stop shaking.
Steve felt Tony jerk, startled, then he was hanging naked over a precipice, and someone was reaching, reaching out to him, and he couldn’t, he was too cold, and he couldn’t reach their outstretched hand...
Steve heard someone scream Bucky’s name, high and anguished, and with a cold start he realized that it was him. He struggled. There was something binding his hands. He couldn’t reach, he wasn’t going to be able to save Bucky.
Swearing, he wrenched his wrists down. He felt metal giving under his hands and he fell.
Someone was screaming his name.
When he woke his fingertips were icey cold, and his whole right arm felt numb. His back felt like it was on fire, and weirdly that was what helped him breathe in and refocus. He ached everywhere. Someone needed him. They’d been calling, hadn't they?
He opened his eyes.
“Steve, are you with me?”
Dark hair. Bucky.
“I hear you Steve, I hear you, Bucky. It’s ok, you’re safe. Do you know who I am? Do you know where you are?”
Tony’s worried face came into view and Steve blinked trying to focus. “Tony,” he slurred. “Stark, your tower. Avengers tower.”
Tony crawled closer to him. He had a blanket in one hand, and a bottle of water in the other.
Steve let him tilt the bottle and pour a little into his mouth. He choked, startled by how icy it felt. “Coouh, too cold,” he managed.
Tony’s eyes widened. “Ok, no worries. I’ve got this. Here,” he wrapped the fleece blanket around Steve, and let Steve dig his fingers in, clutching the soft fabric to his chest. “Two seconds, ok, gimmy just, hold on.”
Steve stayed quiet, staring out the window. He counted the seconds passing, then Tony was back, holding a warm thermos in his hands.
Steve started to reach for it, but Tony just guided his hands around the bottle, tilting it up to his mouth. “Chicken broth,” he explained.
It felt so good. Steve knew in some small corner of his mind, that this was aftercare. That Tony was doing this out of obligation, not affection, but Steve had been taking care of people so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to have Bucky wrap him in a warm blanket, to have his mother use some of her own ration cards so he could have something hot to eat after a particularly bad asthma attack.
Tony’s hands felt so warm.
He lost track of time for a few seconds, and then Tony was helping him sit on the couch, curling up around him so they could share body heat.
“What do you need?” Tony’s fingers through his hair felt gentle. He remembered in a panicked flare, he’d screwed up, he’d screwed up everything. Then Tony’s hands were there, soothing.
“Shh, shh. It’s ok Winghead. Don’t fight it. Stay under. You’re fine.”
“I messed everything up,” he managed.
“Hey, no. We’ll try again, we’ll establish some guidelines ok. You did good. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Next time?”
Tony pulled Steve toward him, until his head was resting in Tony’s lap. “Yeah, next time. What do you need me to do? We can do whatever you want.”
“This is good,” Steve said.
Tony kept carding his fingers through Steve’s hair.
“Hey Tony,” Steve said.
“Yeah.”
“Can we watch Steam Boat Willie? Ma took me to see it once, when I was little.”
“Yeah Steve.”
Tony almost sounded fond. Steve wanted so much to belong to this man, to have more moments like this, but he was here, in the now. It felt so good to be touched, and Tony was holding him like he mattered, watching old cartoons with him. He tried not to fall asleep, tried to draw it out, but Tony’s fingers were so gentle in his hair that he drifted off, hoping that when he woke up, Tony would still be there.