ext_18423 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
simmysim.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cap_ironman2009-02-28 11:13 pm
simmysim.livejournal.com) wrote in cap_ironman2009-02-28 11:13 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Title: click click cum 2
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1800
Summary: Phone sex.
Author's Note: thanks as always to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
onewayfreak!
"He sounds off," Jan warns. She wears a perturbed frown while passing off the phone, and Steve takes it cautiously.
Worry that Tony's calling from his helmet, that there's something Very Wrong jumps out the window the moment he puts the phone it his ear, before Tony can even speak. That catch of breath, sharp and nearly gasping, and Steve knows.
"Tony," he says.
"Steve."
"How's Italy?" he asks, nodding and giving a dismissive wave to a ready-to-be-concerned Jan; no, everything's fine.
"Boring," Tony says. "A lot of Italians speaking Italian. How's New York?"
"Boring," Steve says. "My boyfriend abandoned me."
"That's awful, sweetheart. You alone?"
"I'm getting there," Steve says, walking at an easy pace down the hall, to their bedroom. This is not the first night they've spent apart after becoming A Couple, not nearly, and this has never happened before, but Steve really can't say he's surprised. He kicks the door shut. "You're masturbating."
"I have been," Tony says, slowly. Deliberately, as if annoyed. "For the past hour."
That's . . . a little worrying. "Is something wrong?"
"I could get off," Tony says. "If I wanted to, but you're not here. And it's . . . boring."
And that has to be a lie, he knows for a fact Tony derives a particular thrill out of getting himself off; making full productions of propping himself up against the headboard, performing in such a loud, shameless way that if it were anyone else, Steve would swear they were playing it up. The sight of it; Tony's slowly spreading thighs, arms tense, lithe chest heaving. Eyes locked on Steve until it gets to be too much, then they're squeezed shut, lips wetted again and again as he pants. It's truly gorgeous, and Steve enjoys watching almost as much as Tony enjoys doing it. Tony and his hand have a devoted relationship, indeed.
He says as much to Tony, who exhales noisily, shuffling.
"That's when you're there," he says. "I didn't used to have a problem by myself. This used to be fun, but you've spoiled me. I'm ruined for everyone but you, including myself. I hope you're proud of yourself."
It's a joke, obviously, but Steve does, actually, feel a rather possessive surge of pride.
"You're smiling, aren't you?" Tony asks.
"I'm flattered," Steve says. It's quite an achievement, considering.
"Steve, you like it," Tony's is a pitch lower, and Steve sees it as if Tony was in the bed next to him, his head tipping back, eyes going half lidded as he groans. "God, that's hot. You want me?"
Ah. Tony's hand had obviously been good enough to get him to the brain detaching from the rest of his body stage. "Of course," Steve says.
There's an odd sort of whine. "If you were here right now," Tony says, "I'd go down on you. I'd suck you off, I'd suck your brain out through your cock. You'd suck me off? We could suck each other off." There's that high pitched tremor again, and Steve's breath catches as he places it.
"Are you," Steve asks, "fingering yourself?"
"It's not enough," Tony says. Arching his back? Riding his own fingers harder, trying to get them deeper? As deep as Steve can go, as hard? Steve's watched him do this, too, ride his own hand, but only for a moment or two. It's hard to watch Tony tease himself that way, when it's so thoroughly Steve's job. "Not big enough, I used to -- before we got together, I'd imagine you fucking me, I'd just use my fingers, it'd be enough. But now it's not -- I know now -- fuck, Steve, I need you."
A nearly dizzying punch of lust guts him, hard and fast, and goes from half hard and amused and fully aroused in about a second. "I miss you, too."
"Would you fuck me? I want it, so bad, Steve," Tony's voice is shaking, and there's a distant, familiar sound of something moving at a very fast, rhythmic pace; his hips must be practically bouncing. "It's not enough Steve, you have to tell me, I have to hear it, my fingers aren't enough."
He glances at the door, and of course it's just as closed and locked as it had been before.
"I'd --"
And he's stumped. How does Tony do this? It shouldn't be hard, really, after acting it out, saying it out loud should be fairly easy. What would he do? Tony fingering himself on the bed, begging to be fucked, there's a few very obvious endings this could have.
Steve closes his eyes; "You're moving too much, I'd -- ah, make you stop. I'd grab your hips. And you'd-- wiggle, like you want to get away, you always do that, but I know you like it." Tony laughs, sounding delighted, enthralled. Breathy. Not so difficult, then, if that worked. "You're too wound up, I'd draw it out, make you wait -- "
"Christ, Steve," Tony laughs. "Are you actually teasing me during hypothetical sex?"
"I'd make you wait," Steve repeats, and is suddenly not embarrassed at all. "That's why you called, isn't it? Because it wasn't working on your own?"
The answering "yes" is so quiet, it's nearly swallowed by the phone's distortion.
"How many fingers are you using?"
"Three."
"I'd pull them all out," Steve says.
Tony gives a small, honestly betrayed huff, but is -- shuffling and another whine -- obviously complying with it, doing as Steve said, he hadn't even told him to. Steve's straining hard against his jeans, the image of Tony an entire ocean away and so . . . wanting. For Steve.
"Lightly, really lightly, I'd grip your cock and --" well, he'd kiss him, but that doesn't translate well to phone sex. "I'd wait until you started -- pushing up, really needing it--"
"Humping your hand?" Tony asks, voice shaking at the end of it. "I really need it, I really need it now."
Propping the phone on his shoulder, jeans unzipped, Steve's hand rests on his own hardness; he'd been mimicking the pace he gave Tony, but at the sound of his voice, the grip turns hard, almost painfully so.
"Harder," he says, voice surprisingly gruff. "I'd start stroking you harder. What noises would you make then?"
A shaky breath, trimmed in a whimper, held again and then a released in a sort of wail; Steve would do anything to see his face just then, including racing up to the hanger and flying a Quinjet nearly four thousand miles, busting down each door, wall and any other structure in his way.
"Yeah, I'd fuck you," he says, tone almost frank. He wouldn't be able to hold himself back. "You'd feel it tomorrow. You'd have to sit through those meetings and dinners and the flight back, and you'd -- it might hurt, and you'd feel it."
"Steve, you're hard," Tony says, as if just now realizing it. "You like this? Are you -- you're jerking off to me, aren't you?"
Steve breathes out hard through his nose and nods, nothing really vocal, but Tony seems to pick up on it anyway. "God, Steve, how hard are you? You're thinking about fucking me, are you about to come? I hope this line isn't secure. I hope someone's hearing this, you're so --aah."
It's surprisingly quiet, almost soft in comparison, but there's no doubt in Steve's mind that he's just come, all over his hand. He waits for the heavy breathing on the other end of the line to calm. "Feel better?"
"Mmm," he sounds like a cat. Stated Tony is a wonderfully compliant, pliable thing. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," he says, and has the evidence of such still hard against his palm.
"You're still hard," Tony notes. "I want to suck you off. Would you let me?"
"Tony," Steve says, shaking his head. "I'd let you do whatever you wanted."
"That used to get me off," his voice is remarkably calm, mirroring Steve's earlier frankness. "I would imagine how big you were, how you'd feel in my mouth, hot and heavy, and how you'd taste. It'd get me off, every time."
"This -- before we did anything?"
"Before we did anything, after a fight, your uniform, I'd -- your pants are so tight."
"Tony," there's that odd mix of embarrassment and lust, the idea of Tony coming from imagining sucking him off is certainly exciting, but -- in his uniform. It's something he's heard before, mostly in jest, he's not sure how the next time he's Captain America around Iron Man will feel.
"I couldn't get it out of my head," Tony continues. "I wanted to make you come so-- so, so bad Steve. I wanted to swallow it."
"You came," Steve says, memory dawning on him as he says it. "The first time."
"Yeah, the first time I sucked you off, I came right there, I wasn't even jerking off, it was just you-- it was better," Tony's probably stroking himself again, lazily, as he recalls it. The fact that it's real. Steve wouldn't put it past him to exaggerate for the sake of giving Steve a mind-blowing orgasm, but he remembers that, pulling Tony up to return the favor and finding Tony already limp and dazed, licking his lips compulsively. He remembered at the time being surprised that Tony had even swallowed -- nearly every partner he'd been with before had spit it out. "It was better than I pictured, and I pictured -- a lot."
"Jesus, Tony," his voice is unsteady, hand moving tight and hard on his cock. It's coming, he can feel it.
"Which are we going to do first, when I get home? Are you going to fuck me or let me suck you off? If -- if you fuck me, I could suck on your fingers and -- they're not as big, it's not the same, but you'd be there so it'd be enough," Tony rambles, so perfect. "Your choice, whatever you want, you could use me however you want, I'd love all of it as long as you're there and--"
Steve curses, tight and loud, coming, and coming, Tony spread and wailing strong enough in his head that he'd swear it just happened.
The first thing he hears, when his ears start working again, is Tony laughing softly.
"I think I saw stars," Steve says, wiping his hand off on a pant leg.
"I'm flattered," Tony says.
"I'm fucking you, by the way," he says. "When you get home."
Tony actually hums at that. "I'll look forward to it. I'm about to pass out."
"See you soon. Love you," he says.
"Love you, too," Tony says, and there's a long silence; Steve can't quite bring himself to hang up first.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1800
Summary: Phone sex.
Author's Note: thanks as always to
onewayfreak!"He sounds off," Jan warns. She wears a perturbed frown while passing off the phone, and Steve takes it cautiously.
Worry that Tony's calling from his helmet, that there's something Very Wrong jumps out the window the moment he puts the phone it his ear, before Tony can even speak. That catch of breath, sharp and nearly gasping, and Steve knows.
"Tony," he says.
"Steve."
"How's Italy?" he asks, nodding and giving a dismissive wave to a ready-to-be-concerned Jan; no, everything's fine.
"Boring," Tony says. "A lot of Italians speaking Italian. How's New York?"
"Boring," Steve says. "My boyfriend abandoned me."
"That's awful, sweetheart. You alone?"
"I'm getting there," Steve says, walking at an easy pace down the hall, to their bedroom. This is not the first night they've spent apart after becoming A Couple, not nearly, and this has never happened before, but Steve really can't say he's surprised. He kicks the door shut. "You're masturbating."
"I have been," Tony says, slowly. Deliberately, as if annoyed. "For the past hour."
That's . . . a little worrying. "Is something wrong?"
"I could get off," Tony says. "If I wanted to, but you're not here. And it's . . . boring."
And that has to be a lie, he knows for a fact Tony derives a particular thrill out of getting himself off; making full productions of propping himself up against the headboard, performing in such a loud, shameless way that if it were anyone else, Steve would swear they were playing it up. The sight of it; Tony's slowly spreading thighs, arms tense, lithe chest heaving. Eyes locked on Steve until it gets to be too much, then they're squeezed shut, lips wetted again and again as he pants. It's truly gorgeous, and Steve enjoys watching almost as much as Tony enjoys doing it. Tony and his hand have a devoted relationship, indeed.
He says as much to Tony, who exhales noisily, shuffling.
"That's when you're there," he says. "I didn't used to have a problem by myself. This used to be fun, but you've spoiled me. I'm ruined for everyone but you, including myself. I hope you're proud of yourself."
It's a joke, obviously, but Steve does, actually, feel a rather possessive surge of pride.
"You're smiling, aren't you?" Tony asks.
"I'm flattered," Steve says. It's quite an achievement, considering.
"Steve, you like it," Tony's is a pitch lower, and Steve sees it as if Tony was in the bed next to him, his head tipping back, eyes going half lidded as he groans. "God, that's hot. You want me?"
Ah. Tony's hand had obviously been good enough to get him to the brain detaching from the rest of his body stage. "Of course," Steve says.
There's an odd sort of whine. "If you were here right now," Tony says, "I'd go down on you. I'd suck you off, I'd suck your brain out through your cock. You'd suck me off? We could suck each other off." There's that high pitched tremor again, and Steve's breath catches as he places it.
"Are you," Steve asks, "fingering yourself?"
"It's not enough," Tony says. Arching his back? Riding his own fingers harder, trying to get them deeper? As deep as Steve can go, as hard? Steve's watched him do this, too, ride his own hand, but only for a moment or two. It's hard to watch Tony tease himself that way, when it's so thoroughly Steve's job. "Not big enough, I used to -- before we got together, I'd imagine you fucking me, I'd just use my fingers, it'd be enough. But now it's not -- I know now -- fuck, Steve, I need you."
A nearly dizzying punch of lust guts him, hard and fast, and goes from half hard and amused and fully aroused in about a second. "I miss you, too."
"Would you fuck me? I want it, so bad, Steve," Tony's voice is shaking, and there's a distant, familiar sound of something moving at a very fast, rhythmic pace; his hips must be practically bouncing. "It's not enough Steve, you have to tell me, I have to hear it, my fingers aren't enough."
He glances at the door, and of course it's just as closed and locked as it had been before.
"I'd --"
And he's stumped. How does Tony do this? It shouldn't be hard, really, after acting it out, saying it out loud should be fairly easy. What would he do? Tony fingering himself on the bed, begging to be fucked, there's a few very obvious endings this could have.
Steve closes his eyes; "You're moving too much, I'd -- ah, make you stop. I'd grab your hips. And you'd-- wiggle, like you want to get away, you always do that, but I know you like it." Tony laughs, sounding delighted, enthralled. Breathy. Not so difficult, then, if that worked. "You're too wound up, I'd draw it out, make you wait -- "
"Christ, Steve," Tony laughs. "Are you actually teasing me during hypothetical sex?"
"I'd make you wait," Steve repeats, and is suddenly not embarrassed at all. "That's why you called, isn't it? Because it wasn't working on your own?"
The answering "yes" is so quiet, it's nearly swallowed by the phone's distortion.
"How many fingers are you using?"
"Three."
"I'd pull them all out," Steve says.
Tony gives a small, honestly betrayed huff, but is -- shuffling and another whine -- obviously complying with it, doing as Steve said, he hadn't even told him to. Steve's straining hard against his jeans, the image of Tony an entire ocean away and so . . . wanting. For Steve.
"Lightly, really lightly, I'd grip your cock and --" well, he'd kiss him, but that doesn't translate well to phone sex. "I'd wait until you started -- pushing up, really needing it--"
"Humping your hand?" Tony asks, voice shaking at the end of it. "I really need it, I really need it now."
Propping the phone on his shoulder, jeans unzipped, Steve's hand rests on his own hardness; he'd been mimicking the pace he gave Tony, but at the sound of his voice, the grip turns hard, almost painfully so.
"Harder," he says, voice surprisingly gruff. "I'd start stroking you harder. What noises would you make then?"
A shaky breath, trimmed in a whimper, held again and then a released in a sort of wail; Steve would do anything to see his face just then, including racing up to the hanger and flying a Quinjet nearly four thousand miles, busting down each door, wall and any other structure in his way.
"Yeah, I'd fuck you," he says, tone almost frank. He wouldn't be able to hold himself back. "You'd feel it tomorrow. You'd have to sit through those meetings and dinners and the flight back, and you'd -- it might hurt, and you'd feel it."
"Steve, you're hard," Tony says, as if just now realizing it. "You like this? Are you -- you're jerking off to me, aren't you?"
Steve breathes out hard through his nose and nods, nothing really vocal, but Tony seems to pick up on it anyway. "God, Steve, how hard are you? You're thinking about fucking me, are you about to come? I hope this line isn't secure. I hope someone's hearing this, you're so --aah."
It's surprisingly quiet, almost soft in comparison, but there's no doubt in Steve's mind that he's just come, all over his hand. He waits for the heavy breathing on the other end of the line to calm. "Feel better?"
"Mmm," he sounds like a cat. Stated Tony is a wonderfully compliant, pliable thing. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," he says, and has the evidence of such still hard against his palm.
"You're still hard," Tony notes. "I want to suck you off. Would you let me?"
"Tony," Steve says, shaking his head. "I'd let you do whatever you wanted."
"That used to get me off," his voice is remarkably calm, mirroring Steve's earlier frankness. "I would imagine how big you were, how you'd feel in my mouth, hot and heavy, and how you'd taste. It'd get me off, every time."
"This -- before we did anything?"
"Before we did anything, after a fight, your uniform, I'd -- your pants are so tight."
"Tony," there's that odd mix of embarrassment and lust, the idea of Tony coming from imagining sucking him off is certainly exciting, but -- in his uniform. It's something he's heard before, mostly in jest, he's not sure how the next time he's Captain America around Iron Man will feel.
"I couldn't get it out of my head," Tony continues. "I wanted to make you come so-- so, so bad Steve. I wanted to swallow it."
"You came," Steve says, memory dawning on him as he says it. "The first time."
"Yeah, the first time I sucked you off, I came right there, I wasn't even jerking off, it was just you-- it was better," Tony's probably stroking himself again, lazily, as he recalls it. The fact that it's real. Steve wouldn't put it past him to exaggerate for the sake of giving Steve a mind-blowing orgasm, but he remembers that, pulling Tony up to return the favor and finding Tony already limp and dazed, licking his lips compulsively. He remembered at the time being surprised that Tony had even swallowed -- nearly every partner he'd been with before had spit it out. "It was better than I pictured, and I pictured -- a lot."
"Jesus, Tony," his voice is unsteady, hand moving tight and hard on his cock. It's coming, he can feel it.
"Which are we going to do first, when I get home? Are you going to fuck me or let me suck you off? If -- if you fuck me, I could suck on your fingers and -- they're not as big, it's not the same, but you'd be there so it'd be enough," Tony rambles, so perfect. "Your choice, whatever you want, you could use me however you want, I'd love all of it as long as you're there and--"
Steve curses, tight and loud, coming, and coming, Tony spread and wailing strong enough in his head that he'd swear it just happened.
The first thing he hears, when his ears start working again, is Tony laughing softly.
"I think I saw stars," Steve says, wiping his hand off on a pant leg.
"I'm flattered," Tony says.
"I'm fucking you, by the way," he says. "When you get home."
Tony actually hums at that. "I'll look forward to it. I'm about to pass out."
"See you soon. Love you," he says.
"Love you, too," Tony says, and there's a long silence; Steve can't quite bring himself to hang up first.
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And they're so cute and snarky and themselves, even when they're getting each other off cross-continentally!
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"Christ, Steve," Tony laughs. "Are you actually teasing me during hypothetical sex?"
ahahahha. great line.
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"I didn't used to have a problem by myself. This used to be fun, but you've spoiled me. I'm ruined for everyone but you, including myself. I hope you're proud of yourself."
It's a joke, obviously, but Steve does, actually, feel a rather possessive surge of pride.
There needs to be a combination of FFFFFFF and d'awwww because that is exactly what I experienced while reading this. :)
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"Love you, too," Tony says, and there's a long silence; Steve can't quite bring himself to hang up first.
This last line is just beautiful.
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It's 3:30 in the morning and I think you just broke me. Guh. I normally dislike phone sex fic too.
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I hope this line isn't secure. I hope someone's hearing this
LOL Tony!
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anyway....:
::wide eyes:: I didn't think it was possible to write a phone sex story so mind blowingly awesome.
I bet the other avengers had were listening to it all through the speaker phone in the livingroom or somewhere ::snerk:: omg if i could draw i would so draw that, them all sitting in the living room listening and then later steve walkes out all happy yet mellow, and a huge grin on everyones face... and the steve just knows, what they're all grinning about XDDDDDD mmm crack!
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Hell, yeah! That was awesome!
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"Okay, I´ll hang up."
"....you´re still there, Steve."
"I know, but I´m going to do it now"
"I can hear you breathing. Should I hang up?"
"Okay"
"..."
"I love you, Tony."
"I love you."
"I love you"
"I love you"
....
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And oh, Steve, if you only knew HALF the things that are said about you in that uniform. ^_^
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PS: also ROFL on the last line... bet that had another round after they both realised it sucks to hang up XD
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It's so cute the way they both seem surprised how much the other wants them. :)
Stated Tony is a wonderfully compliant, pliable thing.
Suspect you mean sated there.
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FFFFFFFFF this is amazing
"Yeah, I'd fuck you," he says, tone almost frank. He wouldn't be able to hold himself back. "You'd feel it tomorrow. You'd have to sit through those meetings and dinners and the flight back, and you'd -- it might hurt, and you'd feel it."
STEVE YOU HAVE A BEAUTIFUL MIND. Sees all the angles, he does.
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re: click click cum 2
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