fanfic: No Banter; NC-17

[quipquipquip.livejournal.com]

Title: No Banter
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Of course Tony Stark has a pull-out bed in his office.
Word Count: ~2000
Author's note: Much love to pandanoai for the prodding



Steve was trying to pay attention, and Tony was willing to give him points just for that. It'd been a long day and a longer night, filled with meetings and press liaisons for Tony and then the added bonus of a long, hard fight for them both. The Skrull cell had been among the smaller ones that they'd encountered, but, of course, they'd fought tooth and nail.

And now it was four a.m., and Captain America was valiantly trying to keep his eyes open during the joint debriefing with Hank and Reed. His normally perfect posture was sagging, shoulders curling inward as he leaned precariously to the right, eyelids fluttering slightly as his went in and out of consciousness.

Tony could barely keep the smirk off his face. It was rare, but Steve Rogers was still human---capable of feeling the effects of sleep deprivation just as easily as the next person given enough time and stress. As busy as he'd been, he hadn't been able to keep tabs on Cap the way he usually did. He could have kept an 'eye' on him with a flex of Extremis and the Stark Tower cameras, but he rarely did. He didn't think that Cap would appreciate that kind of privacy invasion, and he was usually physically around. The last couple of weeks had seen him either in the garage or---shocker---in the office.

Steve leaned to the left, eyelids drooping and trembling as he fought sleep. Reed was going through his presentation too quickly for most of the Avengers to keep up with anyway; Tony listened with half an ear, already having queued up two cameras to record the scientist's presentation and send it in a compressed file to his encrypted home hard drive. He'd go over it later, when there wasn't a childishly sleepy superhero to watch.

"Tony?" Hank's voice punctured his thoughts, making him cut his gaze to the left---and making Cap startle fully awake with a snort. He smothered his smirk with one hand, wiping it off for later. Hank's voice was touched with the kind of impatience that meant he'd repeated his name. Oh well. Maybe he'd muster up some apologetic faces later. Probably not.

"Yeah?"

Hank's forehead creased with irritation. Yeah, he'd definitely been trying to get his attention for a while. In his own way, Tony was as out of it as Cap. "The unstable compound that you found and were going to test---you did get to it, didn't you?"

"Of course. Do you want the reports I compiled on it?"

"That would be why we came personally, aside from the briefing."

"Well, I'd hate for you to have come all the way here and not get what you're looking for," Tony replied, honey-smooth and practiced. He smiled, scooting out of his chair and brushing invisible wrinkles out of his Armani suit. "...and there we go. Sent. It's waiting at home for you. Now, I think I need some quality time with some finance reports before my secretary gives me my wake-up call. Are we done here?"

Hank's response was noncommittal at best, which translated as a yes to Tony. He gathered up the Bible-like sheaf of briefing notes that Reed had passed out---fodder for his personal incinerator, always hungry for the almost-literal tons of classified materials he fed it---and nodded to each man in turn.

Cap's face was slack, expression relaxed. Tony clapped a hand on his shoulder as he passed, thumb rubbing a familiar line against his shoulderblade. It was a brief movement, probably not something anyone else noticed with how quickly he moved on, but it was enough to get the golden boy's eyes open.

There didn't have to be any further communication between them. Tony tucked the papers under his arm and made for his office, Cap following with a barely-stifled yawn.

"I have never seen you touch a finance report in all the years that I've known you," Steve chided gently.

"There's a first time for everything."

"But today is not going to be that day, is it?"

"Wouldn't dream of using up a first time like that. You only get them once, you know?" Tony smiled, patting Steve's arm. Touches were measured between them, calculated whenever they were somewhere where they could be seen. He thought about every move he made, weighed and analyzed and tested his own selfishness against what was best for Captain America and Iron Man. Most days, the pat on the back or charged brush of fingers when passing something to Steve won out. His hand tingled with sympathetic warmth, lingering long after he'd slid it casually back into his pocket. "Besides, you looked about ready to turn in, Cap. How long has it been since you slept?"

The fact that Cap didn't give him a straight-out answer was answer enough. The hollows beneath his blue eyes were purplish with over-exhaustion, almost bruised looking.

"Thought so."

"It's been busy," Steve said, sounding defensive. The elevator gave a soft chime.

"So it has been," Tony agreed. They turned the corner to his office, and he opened the chip-activated door with barely more than a thought. As soon as the door slid shut behind them, Steve looked at him---really looked at him, tired and earnest and direct---for the first time since before the meeting.

"You don't need my help with your expense reports, Tony," he pointed out, though it had the tilt of a question to the tail of the statement.

"Moral support," he said solemnly. "And I happen to have a pull-out bed."

"In your office?"

Tony dropped his notes in an irreverent heap on his desk, next to a leaking pint of motor oil, four different types of screw drivers and a key to some city in Tennessee that he'd forgotten the name of. He never had been a fan of Tennessee---at least, he hadn't been since he'd stopped visiting Mr. Jack Daniel on a regular basis.

"You can never be too prepared."

Steve sat down in one of the ergonomic leather chairs that a crack team of Pepper and two highly respected interior decorators had insisted on, once upon a time. He had a frown on his face, tugging down the corners of his mouth. He could already tell the question on Cap's mind---he wore it on his face. Prepared for what?

"When you're worth over three billion dollars, you find interesting uses for your pocket change," Tony added, emptying out his change and various clearance keys from his pockets. He sealed the door, dimmed the lights, drew the blinds, and forwarded his phone to voice mail. Extremis had its day-to-day uses, too. "I never know where I'm going to crash, or with whom."

Captain America smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "You do too know."

He loosened his tie, returning the smile. "That so? Well, since you're here you might as well take advantage of my generous hospitality."

"I would never take advantage," he murmured.

And he wouldn't. He was Captain America, a good pure boy from the golden days where men fought with their fists. He was as alien to Tony as anything that'd come from the sky. He was a man outside of time.

And he was currently listing to the left now, eyes drifting shut.

The bed folded itself neatly out from behind the desk, a full king size with impeccable sheets. It used to hide a gorgeous bar, a real show stopper if he was 'entertaining', but times had changed.

Probably for the best.

He leaned over, his hand brushing the dark blue scale mail of Cap's uniform. Steve's eyes were still closed, but he made a soft noise of interest.

"What are you doing?"

"Not sure yet," he said, tugging at the zipper. His uniform had to take ridiculous amounts of time to get on, fastened with all kinds of hidden seams and zippers. Fortunately, Tony had figured out pretty quickly the easiest ways to get him out of his red white and blues. He was a genius, after all. "You're tired. Wouldn't want to overtax you, Cap. You are getting on in years."

He opened one intensely blue eye.

Tony covered his eyes with his hand.

"I'm not that tired," he said, probably not realizing exactly how like a sulky child he suddenly sounded.

"Is that a promise or a threat?"

Steve smiled against his hands. "Not sure yet."

Tony peeled his suit off, exposing the solid line of his clavicle and the tanned curve of his neck. His mouth followed his fingers, sucking hard. He left wet smirches, tender skin rosy. It usually didn't matter how hard he bit or sucked---Cap didn't bruise easily. It was something of a personal challenge just to leave one or two marks as a reminder for him later.

His knuckles brushed the inside of his thigh, and he stopped. Not that tired indeed. Captain America was already swelling to hardness, fat erection pushing against the sturdy fabric of his pants. Tony palmed him; Steve groaned low in his throat and leaned into him, a large hand resting on his hip.

"What about those expense reports?" Steve asked in an undertone, thumb tracing the curve of Tony's hip.

"I'm doing them," he replied as he popped open his belt with all the businesslike efficiency due a leading billionaire. Leaning into his solid bulk, Cap's zipper caught between his teeth, he added, "I call it multitasking."

Steve's response was mostly moan, deep in his chest. It was only just recognizable as Tony's name.

"Mm?" he hummed in question, a callused fist around the base of his cock. He breathed against the swollen, purplish head, almost smirking at the shiver that rolled throughout Steve's body in response.

Tony was an inventor. He pieced together things, took them apart, understood how they ticked and what made them what they were. He knew how to orchestrate reactions in metal alloys, chemical compounds, media blowouts, and the collections of muscular spasms and aborted breaths that indicated Steve's arousal. He could pull him along, masterfully bringing him to orgasm at his own pace and time.

And he was smug about it, too. Steve hadn't had to tell him that their first time together had blown his 1944-missionary-position-and-cuddled-afterglow mind; his childishly wide eyes and flushed face had been enough. Oh, but Tony had been smug after that. Ridiculously so. A young adulthood of sexual debauchery had taught him well.

"You sure you don't have w-work to do?" Steve asked haltingly. Tony had no illusions that, at this point, Steve would put his fist through any work that he imagined he had to do. There was something very primal, very caveman, about him when he was hard and needy and Tony was drawing him out.

He pressed his thumb firmly against the underside of his dick. His head was already trailing a shining bead of precome; he slid a finger over the slit, licking the sticky residue off.

"You sure that you can stay awake?"

"Tony? No banter. I'm too---no banter."

"Fine, then," Tony murmured, pulling his tie the rest of the way off. It was Armani, of course---fine silk, worth a pretty penny. He saw things not for their monetary worth, but for their immediate usefulness...and this would work well as a cockring. Steve was over-sensitized, ready to go at any time---and he didn't want it to be over until he was ready for it to be over. He looped the tie around the base of his cock, fine black silk nestled in his nest of curly golden hair, and pulled it snug. His erection jerked, bouncing against his stomach as Tony pushed him over and straddled his hips.

The look of confusion that Steve gave him was one for the record books. Tony had to kiss it off, running his tongue against his lower lip and just barely teasing with his teeth.

"Just try to keep up."

"Banter," Steve sighed heavily, hips rolling automatically under Tony's. "That was banter. And you've got far too many clothes on."

He leaned back, grinding against Steve's erection---and pulling a hoarse yelp out of him---and undid the rest of the buttons of his shirt. Cap settled his hands on his hips again, thumbs looped between the waistband and his warm skin.

"My banter is a third of my charm," Tony smirked, tossing his shirt aside as Steve worked diligently on his pants.

"What are the other two thirds?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Raw sexual prowess and genius, obviously."

Steve laughed, his chest vibrating beneath Tony's hands.