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cap_ironman2010-02-15 07:08 pm
americanaviator.livejournal.com) wrote in cap_ironman2010-02-15 07:08 pm
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valentine's day ficdump part one!
eeeeeh... so, my excuse: friday through sunday were one of the single worst weekends i can recall having, and for most of this time i wasn't fit to get out of bed, let alone write anything worth reading.
which means i'm horribly behind on my request-filling-ness - but i haven't forgotten! over the course of this next week i will post up fics, in no particular order, as i finish them. i promise! T_T <3
and then back to longfic 8)
so!
title: taking flak
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
theaviatorfifi
rating: pg
warnings: none
pairings/characters: steve, tony, mentions of hank and jan
word count: 1108
a/n: this fic is the first of two forarkennes . happy late valentine's day!
prompt: "on their way home, after a long and hard battle, steve and tony kiss in the quinjet :DD"
The Quinjet engines were a steady roar, half a noise and half a feeling, a steady vibration through the body of the jet. It was a comforting noise to Tony - a comforting feeling, too. He'd been riding in jets since he was age nothing and somehow he found the sensation of the powerful engines soothing, familiar and pleasing. He was exhausted, tiredness seeping into him and settling like cold, and sitting down the armor weighed heavily on him, or at least heavier than usual. He knew it was mostly psychological; the hydraulics were working fine, just like they did when he put the armor on six hours ago and felt as light as air and as strong as steel.
He held his helmet in his hands, in his lap; red and gold was scorched and scratched in places, his hands, his legs, one side of the helmet blackened, a dent scant inches below the arc reactor from where some triple-A went off in his face and knocked him out of the air and out of control, and he'd clotheslined himself against the horizontal arm of a crane. It had been just a routine mission, HYDRA's goons and a smuggling operation, illegal arms, probably Stark tech though Tony hadn't dared look. He'd probably find out in the briefing. Tony had stayed in the air, a one-man strike force, keeping one eye on Steve and the other eye on the rest of the team.
Steve was sitting next to him, his head tipped back, cowl off and eyes closed. The shield rested on its edge on the floor, supported on either side by Steve's knees. He hadn't taken any bad hits - except for the unfortunate moment with the flak, Tony had been playing the guardian angel since the fight started. Steve was scuffed in all the obvious places, a graze on his cheek and dirt on his face, costume thoroughly battered. His hair was still a little damp, and a little pressed down from the cowl.
The plane was silent, blissfully so, everyone exhausted and hurting and glad to be able to stop moving for a little while, and suffering from the shaking dizziness of the crash after the adrenaline-fuelled fight. Tony was content with that. The atmosphere made him think; first about the repairs he'd have to do to his armor, how he'd get the dents out and clean it up and repaint it; and then about the plane, the mechanism of the jet engine, the thrust-to-weight ratio, the stealth features and the max speed, and about how he could go faster. Pretty soon, though, his mind exhausted all the interesting features of the jet and cast around for something else. Luckily, it didn't have far to go.
How familiar does this feel, Tony wondered, to Steve? Does it still remind him of the B-25 if he closes his eyes? Until he'd woken up in the 21st century, the only airplanes Steve had ever been in were the bombers. Tony glanced over at Steve, saw his eyes were closed, and felt a powerful desire to know exactly what the other man was thinking right at that moment. Does it still scare him a little, even though he never lets on?
Steve must have felt Tony staring, because he opened his eyes and grinned a little, tired and fond.
"Something on your mind, Tony?"
Tony smiled back, shrugged a little and sat back, running his thumb over the brow of his helmet.
"Not in the ways that implies," Tony reassured him, looking down at his helmet, at Iron Man's face. Though he looked up at Steve's face instead, surprised and a little hesitant, when Steve laid his hand on Tony's arm reassuringly, battered and worn red leather against scuffed red armor.
"All of us were pretty worried when you took that flak, y'know," he said softly. "I was worried."
Tony almost laughed. He'd almost forgotten about the girder. He hadn't been thinking about it even as it happened; he'd been thinking about Steve. "Steve..."
"I'm not trying to be nosy," Steve said quickly, a little apologetically. "I'm just saying, these things can hit kinda hard sometimes--"
"Steve," Tony said, glancing briefly over at Hank - definitely distracted, probably asleep, good - before laying his hand over Steve's on his arm. "I'm fine. I wasn't thinking about that. I'd… sort of forgotten it had happened."
He squeezed Steve's hand when the other man looked a little nonplussed, Tony thought a little horrified but perhaps not. It was Steve, after all. "Really. It wasn't as bad a hit as it looked," he said, only half telling the truth. Three inches higher and it could have done some real damage. Steve almost certainly hadn't realised that Tony had been covering him. Tony didn't tell him; Tony didn't think to. He wasn't doing it for credit, he was doing it to protect the people that needed protecting in the battle. As far as Tony was concerned, it was just tactics.
So he really wasn't expecting it when Steve, all gentle concern, leaned over and pulled him closer, and kissed him. Tony's eyes widened at first, and then fluttered half closed as he melted into the kiss. How could he resist? Steve kissed like they kissed in the movies, soft and firm, drawing Tony closer rather than smothering him. It wasn't lustful, but meant to communicate things like reassurance and care (and Tony didn't dare think 'love'), and it was absolutely nothing like kissing a woman. Hell, Steve barely opened his mouth; it was just pressure and warmth and it made Tony feel like his spine had just dissolved, his world narrowing down to the powerful, contented hum of the Quinjet and the wonderful warmth and comfort of Steve's mouth against his.
When Steve pulled away, Tony just blinked up at him. "What was that for?"
"You looked like you needed it," Steve replied, smiling gently, and Tony thanked his lucky stars that the man believed in things like true love and meant to be, and was willing to do things like kiss him in the Quinjet even though he was blushing to hell because of it.
He spotted the end of an adoring, pleased look from Jan, turning away as Tony turned around, and after a moment of internal conflict Tony just sank back into his seat. It took forty more seconds for his head to droop on to Steve's shoulder as he began to pass out.
Steve tipped his cheek against Tony's head, settled his hands back on the edge of his shield, and didn't move a muscle until they'd landed.
--
title: the second week of february
author:theaviatorfifi
rating: nc-17
warnings: none
pairings/characters: steve, tony, pepper, happy
word count: 3697
a/n: and this fic for the wonderfulquintum <3 happy late valentine's day! god, so this basically just... exploded as i was writing it... because i couldn't bring myself to not resolve it, and then i had a cute plan for how tony would resolve it, and then i remembered that the rating was meant to be nc-17... and it just got longer and longer and now it's over three and a half thousand words. D:
prompt: "steve remembers v-day. tony forgets. nc-17 and down."
Tony was not actually very susceptible to jet lag, but he was pretty sure that the month of January had taken him to just about every timezone where people did business with each other and by the time February rolled around, he was waking up without knowing whether to expect New York, Tokyo, Sydney, LA or London. And he was tired. He'd been tossed around the globe like a fucking ping pong ball and when he walked - well, staggered, in fact, more dead than alive after another transcontinental flight - back into his office, Pepper had canceled every meeting that week and sent him home. Tony couldn't deny he wasn't grateful for it.
The first week of February was spent largely asleep. The time not spent sleeping was spent with Steve (though if Tony could possibly make it happen, they didn't actually leave the bedroom), because Tony had decided that a month away from New York was definitely too long, and that he liked Steve's methods of getting him to go to sleep a lot better than he liked Pepper's, which were mostly just extortion of various kinds.
The jet lag was gone by the second week, though, and Tony realised he had a week of work to make up for and what practically counted as a full set of blueprints for a redesign of the armor drawn in ballpoint pen on the back of American Airlines napkins. And that he'd just spent a week in bed (all right, so maybe he'd been playing it up a bit, but still!) and that the number one thing he wanted to do at that moment was go down to the shop and do something productive.
He really did just work from the napkins, spreading them out on one of the worksurfaces without bothering to draw up proper blueprints. An engineering team could never have followed the little sketches but for Tony they were perfectly adequate - he could work straight from them and from the images in his mind of what the designs should look like and how they should work.
He worked for twenty eight hours straight before he finally collapsed, his face pillowed against his arms, slumped over the worktable, and awoke four hours later - just a nap, but it was enough to recharge him and give him the energy to go on for another good twenty hours or so, followed by another nap…
--
"Tony?"
Tony started awake to the sound of Steve's voice - he didn't remember falling asleep, but he guessed he must have been working for a good three or four days, which was probably good cause to come looking for him. Steve had the entry codes to the shop… Tony groaned and practically peeled himself off the table, every muscle in his back protesting.
"Aaaggh… mornin', Steve," he mumbled, and then paused. "Afternoon. Aah.. what time is it?" He blindly grabbed the cup of coffee he'd been drinking the previous night, sipping the cold liquid in an effort to make himself a little more coherent.
Steve came up behind him, two big hands settling on his shoulders and digging in. Tony nearly dropped his coffee as his sore muscles protested, but it was a pleasant kind of pain, and he carefully set the mug down and slumped forwards, shivering pleasantly when Steve kissed his neck, the agony in his back slowly slipping away as Steve firmly massaged his shoulders.
"It's ten thirty in the morning," Steve murmured, kissing his ear. This was odd - Steve wasn't usually this… tactile. Something was off.
"Mm. Morning then." Tony flexed his shoulders and hissed a breath in through his teeth as Steve's hands slid a little lower and kept massaging the tension out of the muscles. "Mmgh, god, Steve, that's nice."
"Good," smiled Steve, hands moving higher again and easing the strain out of Tony's neck. Tony let out a heavy breath, sinking down against the table.
"What day is it, by the way?"
Steve's hands went still. "…Tony…"
Tony opened his eyes and blinked, confused. "…Did I say something wrong?"
Steve sighed. "Tony… You forgot, didn't you?"
Oh, god, he was hurt. Steve didn't use that tone of voice that often - only when his feelings had actually been hurt. Shit shit shit. All Tony had done was want to know what day of the week it was. "I know this is going to make it worse," Tony said cautiously, "but I really have no idea what you're talking about."
Steve made a quiet, slightly indignant, slightly exasperated noise. Oh, god, he'd made it worse. "How long do you think you've been here, Tony?" Steve asked.
Tony hazarded a guess. "Three, four days tops?"
"Oh, Tony…"
"How long have I been here?" Tony asked, getting the distinct feeling that he didn't want to know.
"A week," Steve told him.
Tony did the math.
"…It's Valentine's Day today, isn't it," he said, and Steve sighed. "Steve, fuck, I am so sorry--"
"Don't worry about it, Tony," Steve said quietly. Tony turned around, getting to his feet and putting his hands on Steve's arms, giving him a pleadingly apologetic look.
"Really, Steve, I have taken four naps down here. I didn't think it could possibly have been more than about four days--"
"I said, don't worry about it," Steve said, patting Tony on the shoulder. "You get cleaned up, I'll see you later on today."
Tony bit his tongue, looked away and hid a wince. "…Yeah," he murmured, "Yeah, okay, Steve."
Steve turned away, making for the door. "Steve?" Tony blurted, and Steve looked back. "Steve… I'm really sorry," he mumbled. Steve nodded, shrugged, smile. "I know, Tony," he said. "It's fine."
Tony looked at the floor until Steve had shut the door behind him, and then sat down again, face in his hands. "Fuck," he said out loud. "Fuck! I am a terrible, horrible boyfriend."
--
Initially he'd been ready to chew out Pepper for not reminding him in good time of the date, but he'd had the feeling he wouldn't be so lucky, and sure enough a glance at his phone revealed a backlog of messages reminding him of just that, dating back four days. That would teach him to put his phone on silent. Christ… he was going to get a reminder tattooed on to his arm for this date. It was the kind of thing, he knew, that would be important to Steve; a largely commercial celebration of true love was exactly the sort of thing he went in for, and it was the first Valentine's Day that they had been properly together and could have been Tony's opportunity to really make up for a month spent in the air and a week in the shop except that now he'd fucked it up.
He didn't have time to sit and be self-pitying, he knew - he poured himself another cup of coffee, hot this time, and speed-dialled Pepper.
"You forgot, didn't you?" Pepper said immediately as she picked up the phone. Tony winced. Was he that predictably horrible?
"Kind of," he replied guiltily. "Look, Pep, I really need some help here. This situation is going to be FUBAR if I don't figure out something amazing to make this up to Steve."
Pepper clucked. "You know, Tony, a proper apology should come from you, not your secretary," she told him, not letting her smile creep into her voice.
"Pepper, please!" Tony yelped. "I didn't even know what day it is! Take pity!"
Pepper laughed - Tony raised his eyebrows a little. He was being cute out of habit, but he really did need Pepper to help him. "Fine," she sighed finally, and Tony slumped in relief and grinned. "Get up here, take a shower, and I will help you."
"You're a life-saver, Pep," Tony told her. "I promise I will never put your ringtone on silent again."
"You can't stick to that promise, Tony. Get moving."
"Right away." Tony hung up and breathed a sigh of relief. With Pepper on the job, he had more or less nothing to worry about.
--
Steve was hurt - it was only natural - but he wasn't really all that angry with Tony. He knew the man well enough to know that he really wasn't lying when he said he hadn't taken more than four naps in a week - and he knew him well enough not to begrudge him the time he could spend really absorbed in his work. He knew Tony would apologize - if, for some reason, he tried to spend the rest of the day hiding in guilt, Steve had decided he would give Tony until half past eight before he went over and took him out for dinner. He also knew this wouldn't be necessary; Tony would find a way to make it up to him. So when there was a knock on the door at 7pm on the dot, Steve smiled, shook his head a little and got up to answer it. He was admittedly a little curious to see what Tony's apology would look like, and wasn't too surprised to find Happy standing outside.
"Hey, Happy," Steve greeted. So Tony was taking him somewhere... "Something happening?"
"Hi, Steve," Happy grinned; he'd long ago stopped calling Steve 'Mr Rogers', more than happy to be on first name terms with the man. "Tony says I'm taking you somewhere, location classified."
Steve raised his eyebrows a little. "Classified, huh? All right, hold up, I'm coming." He grabbed a jacket, a scarf and a pair of gloves - it was below thirty outside and just because it was virtually impossible for him to catch a cold didn't mean he shouldn't be wrapping up warm anyway. Besides, he had no idea what Tony was planning.
"All right," he said, pocketing his keys, and Happy straightened up from where he'd been leaning against the doorframe. "Lead the way."
--
The windows in the back of the car had been blacked out, not that Steve really minded - he trusted Tony and he trusted the people Tony trusted. Happy held the back door open for him and he obligingly got in, immediately spotting a small white box sitting on the backseat, tied with red and blue ribbon. Steve couldn't help but smile fondly, mostly because Tony had specifically picked those colors and partly because he genuinely liked it. He buckled his seatbelt and untied the ribbon - the box contained three pieces of candy, Hershey's: two Kisses and a Hug. Steve laughed aloud. Oh, Tony… Steve could guess that any woman Tony accidentally scorned would have been finding something from Cartier's in that box. He couldn't help but be pleased that Tony knew him well enough to know that he would infinitely prefer affectionate candy to some unnecessarily expensive token gift.
He ate the candy while they drove (Hershey's was his favorite and Tony knew it), making sure to put the foil wrappers and paper tape back in the box so as not to get Tony's car messy, and by the time they stopped and Happy got out to let Steve out, his mouth still tasted of chocolate.
He didn't actually know where they were, but the moment Happy opened the door and he got out, he recognized it. They were on Governor's Island, right up by the shore, and just a little way across the water the Statue of Liberty rose proudly. Steve couldn't help but smile; fond, maybe just a little moved. A flash of light by the statue's crown caught his eye in time to spot Tony diving down towards them, a flash of red and gold. He touched down with a thud in front of Steve, his mask down, standing a good head taller than him in the armor. Steve smiled up at him.
"Steve," Iron Man said, and even though it was impossible to tell what his tone was through the voice modulator, Steve knew it would be relieved, affectionate, just a little bit grateful. "Glad you could make it. Thanks, Happy, that'll be all," he added, and Happy nodded and grinned back, shutting the back door and getting back into the car, starting the engine and driving off.
"Can I guess what's going to happen, Tony?" Steve asked, and Tony made a twitching movement that in the armor meant a shrug.
"I hope not," he replied, and then slowly - so that Steve could see what was coming, no sudden movements - he moved forwards and wrapped his arm around Steve's waist, holding them close and just a little more intimate than when they were flying together on missions, easily lifting his weight with the armor's added strength, and using his other hand to stabilize, he engaged the boot jets and took to the air.
Flying with Tony was still a rush, a roller-coaster lurch and thrill that made Steve's heart jump into his throat, even at a comparatively slow speed of no more than a hundred and fifty, two hundred miles per hour. Steve leaned in close, feeling the warm hum of the armor pressed solidly against him, the light of the arc reactor illuminating the shared space between them. They tore vertically up into the air, and then spiralled lazily over the water towards Liberty Island. Steve held on tight to Tony's shoulders but even with only one arm Steve knew that Tony had him more than securely, that there was no risk of him falling. After the initial burst of speed that left Steve's pulse racing, he slowly relaxed against the other man, looking down at the water sparkling below them, and then - with nothing short of awe - at the glittering expanse of the city before them, the skyline carved out in a blaze of light against the night sky. It was cold, but Tony was warm in the armor and Steve didn't really noticed the cold, especially not with the warm armor against him and the scenery taking his breath away.
By the time Tony came to a stop, their feet were bare inches above the rays of Lady Liberty's crown, and Tony engaged error correction on the armor which made the responses slower but kept him from accidentally flipping them into a spin if he forgot where his feet were. He got both arms around Steve, the armor's hydraulics supporting his weight, and the mask retracted, revealing Tony, flushed and bright-eyed from flight and smiling just a little bit sheepishly.
"Hey," he said, and Steve smiled back brightly.
"Hey."
"I'm sorry I forgot about today, Steve," Tony murmured - the wind was high up here, whistling around the statue and around them, but they were close enough together that they could speak softly and still be heard.
"I know," Steve replied. "It's okay, Tony."
Tony smiled in relief, and then leaned forwards, offering a kiss. Steve tilted his head in acceptance and Tony closed the distance between them, holding Steve tightly against him and kissing him deeply, tipping him back a little. Steve closed his eyes, of course, but Tony generally kissed with his eyes open, aware of the scenery around and below them, aware of Steve's expression and the wind whipping his hair, every pleased little noise from Steve muffled into the kiss making him melt.
"Happy Valentine's Day," Tony said, just a little breathless as he pulled back, and Steve laughed.
"You too, Tony."
--
Steve had sort of guessed he wouldn't be getting back to his apartment that night, and he was proven right - Tony, of course, had other ideas. They'd ended up lazily circling the statue, winding higher and higher into the air, Tony's kisses getting more and more heated with one metal hand trailing over Steve's body and both of Steve's gloved hands stroking the armor. In the end, Tony had broken after ten minutes, leaning in to mouth at Steve's jaw and ear.
"If you're sure you've forgiven me," he whispered, "why don't we, uh, go back to my place?"
"Sounds like a swell plan, Tony," Steve murmured back, and barely had time to remember to cling to Tony's shoulders before he fully reengaged the boot jets and rolled to the side in a stomach-lurching drop, before gunning it back to his penthouse. They landed with a crunch on the roof, Steve's legs shaking from the incredible flight, and he stumbled a couple of times, holding Tony's arm and laughing before he managed to get his feet under him.
"I feel like a real dame, holding on to you like this," Steve joked - and that was all it took for Tony to duck, get an arm around the back of Steve's knees and swing him up into his arms. He couldn't have hoped to achieve this without the armor, but right now he had hydraulic strength that let him lift hundreds of tons and he'd be a fool not to put it to good use. Besides, it was worth it for the way Steve yelped and blushed.
"Tony! I was just kidding-- put me down!"
"You can return the favor on our wedding night," Tony replied lightheartedly, teasing Steve, and not putting him down. Steve fussed, the blush deepening a little, but he relented and sank against Tony's chest. It wouldn't have been easy to get out of the armor's grip anyway, and he didn't really mind. So instead, he let Tony carry him to the bedroom - thankfully he was set back on his feet at the door, which Tony quickly shut behind him before disengaging the locks on the armor and shedding pieces of metal, running bared fingers through his hair that had been pressed down by the helmet.
Steve followed suit, taking off his scarf and gloves and dropping them on the chair of Tony's desk, his jacket quickly following. Tony was watching him like a hawk as he stripped the armor off without even needing to look, and it brought back that light flush to Steve's cheeks. Tony, needing the arc reactor to connect with the armor's power systems, was only wearing his boxers underneath all the metal - stripping it away just revealed flushed skin, and Steve folded his arms a little self-consciously and let Tony divest himself of the entire suit before he moved again. He was still fully dressed and Tony was almost completely bare - he could see Tony noticing this fact and grinning wolfishly, coolly, casually sliding his underwear off and then turning and walking in a hip-swaying stride over to the bed, making Steve chase him.
Steve did, of course, without reservation, watching as Tony shamelessly spread himself out on the quilt, arching his hips to draw attention to how hard he was - for Steve - and stretching his arms above his head. He was being purposefully coquettish, but grinning like an idiot as he took in Steve's appreciative expression, cheeks dark and pupils just a little dilated.
"Something you want, Steve?" he asked lowly, and Steve swallowed and breathed out just a little shakily.
"Uh huh," he mumbled - seeing Tony like this always got Steve kind of tongue tied, and Tony thought it was adorable and tried to induce it as often as possible. Steve knelt on the bed, bending to kiss Tony again, and Tony got his fingers under Steve's shirt and tugged it up, breaking the kiss to get it over Steve's head and quickly claiming his lips again as he threw it off to the side, running his hands down Steve's chest and stomach, and the lower without skipping a beat, palming the bulge in Steve's pants. Steve gasped right on cue, his hips leaning forwards into Tony's hand,
"Ah-! Tony…"
"Do not say anything about me being shameless," Tony told him firmly, speaking against his lips, unwilling to break the kiss as he teased Steve mercilessly through his pants. "It's pointless to state the obvious."
"Hnn…" replied Steve, mouthing at Tony's neck, his eyes closed as he concentrated on the sweetly masculine smell and taste of Tony's skin - and then snapping open as Tony somehow undid his pants with one hand in one movement, sliding his hand inside and wrapping his fingers around his cock. "Ah! Tony!"
Tony grinned smugly as Steve shuddered against him, rocking his hips shallowly into Tony's hand as he squirmed about a little to toe off sneakers and socks, crawling up on to the bed properly and catching Tony's wrist.
"Let up a minute," he gasped, making to pull his jeans off - but Tony moved immediately, catching Steve and flipping them over, pinning him down to the mattress.
"Whoa there!" Steve yelped, surprised but smiling, and Tony smirked at him.
"Hey, you taught me how to do that, you bring these things on yourself," he retorted, bending his head to nuzzle and kiss at Steve's neck, slowly making his way down the other man's body with kisses and licks and gentle little bites that made Steve gasp and shudder under Tony's hands and mouth. The blonde settled back, big hands stroking over Tony's shoulders, fingers threading through his hair and making him purr like a kitten. Steve was smiling slightly, wholeheartedly enjoying the sensations, his eyes closed and his head tipped back, pleasured little noises escaping slightly parted lips.
Tony was looking up at him as he covered his body in kisses, gradually making his way lower. He adored the way Steve looked during sex - flushed and happy and utterly genuine, radiating pure enjoyment, giving himself over entirely to the pleasure Tony gave him. He slid Steve's jeans and underwear off in one go with his hands, discarding them over the edge of the bed somewhere, and bent his head to suckle at Steve's hip, shivering at the low, pleasured sound it earned him.
Finally Tony wrapped his hand around Steve's cock and slowly eased his mouth over him, making Steve groan and arch just slightly, just enough to encourage without forcing any more of himself into Tony's mouth, hands tightening in Tony's hair.
"Oh, god, Tony… yes..."
Tony breathed out hard through his nose, his senses overwhelmed with Steve's taste and smell, the weight of him in his mouth and the pleasantly aching stretch of his lips and jaw as he took Steve in deeper. He leaned on one elbow propped up at Steve's hip, and slid his other hand down to stroke himself slowly as he closed his eyes and devoted the rest of his focus entirely to the task of giving Steve an absolutely phenomenal blowjob.
Steve was usually fairly quiet during sex, but it made the noises he did make all the better - his little moans and gasps got steadily louder and more ragged until finally his hips jerked up a little harder than usual, and he just about managed to choke out, "Tony, ah, I-I'm gonna-- Ah! Tony!"-- and then he was coming, hard, one hand clenched just a little too tight in Tony's hair and the other gripping the sheets almost tight enough to tear them. Tony groaned, taking Steve right to the back of his throat and swallowing everything, his eyes half-open, his face flushed and his hair damp. Finally he pulled of, his tongue flicking over his lips, breathing through his mouth and drawing air like a racehorse as he knelt with one hand on the bed and got himself off. His eyes were closed again, his body bent over Steve's hips, trembling with frustrated pleasure. Steve lay for eight seconds before he sat up, and Tony didn't notice until Steve was kissing his face and covering Tony's hand with his own, directing his strokes. Tony groaned, biting his lip and nuzzling into Steve's shoulder, and it didn't take long at all under that kind of sexiness for Tony to tense, shudder violently and come hard, hot liquid striping across Steve's hip. Tony could be as loud as a whore if he wanted to put on a show, but left to himself, he was exceptionally quiet, and finally he slumped against Steve exhaustedly, shivering with the afterglow of pleasure with a soft, deep moan.
"Tony…" Steve murmured, kissing his temple, his hair, and Tony made a low contented noise, lips curving into a sated smile. He felt Steve tense and shift underneath him, and familiarity let him know that Steve was making for the kleenex - Tony pushed him clumsily down and bent his head, licking the splashes of cum off Steve's skin. When he looked up again, Steve was staring down at him and blushing beet red, like he'd never seen Tony do that before. Tony just gave him a winning smile, and then collapsed forwards, snuggling up to Steve and sprawling across him, his head tucked under Steve's jaw.
"That," Tony purred, "was great. That was fantastic. God, Steve. It shouldn't be nearly so sexy when you do that."
Steve made an amused, fond, and slightly scandalized noise, rubbing his cheek against Tony's head a little and holding him close. "Mm… you were great too, Tony," he hummed. "You always are…" It was about as close as Steve got to saying anything actually dirty after sex - he'd dirty-talked Tony a couple of times to tease him and Tony could vouch that it was the sexiest thing on the face of the planet, but afterwards he tended to be warmly, kindly complimentary and nothing more. Tony hardly minded; it was sweet as hell.
"Want to go find some food when I've recovered?" Tony slurred. He'd nap for ten minutes and then get up and shower, he reckoned. Steve nodded, exhaling and relaxing into the mattress and into Tony.
"Love to," he murmured - apparently he had the same idea as Tony. That was all well and good.
Well, Tony thought just as he slipped into unconsciousness, Operation: Make Up For Forgetting Valentine's Day To Captain America had definitely been a success.
which means i'm horribly behind on my request-filling-ness - but i haven't forgotten! over the course of this next week i will post up fics, in no particular order, as i finish them. i promise! T_T <3
so!
title: taking flak
author:
theaviatorfifi rating: pg
warnings: none
pairings/characters: steve, tony, mentions of hank and jan
word count: 1108
a/n: this fic is the first of two for
arkennes . happy late valentine's day!prompt: "on their way home, after a long and hard battle, steve and tony kiss in the quinjet :DD"
The Quinjet engines were a steady roar, half a noise and half a feeling, a steady vibration through the body of the jet. It was a comforting noise to Tony - a comforting feeling, too. He'd been riding in jets since he was age nothing and somehow he found the sensation of the powerful engines soothing, familiar and pleasing. He was exhausted, tiredness seeping into him and settling like cold, and sitting down the armor weighed heavily on him, or at least heavier than usual. He knew it was mostly psychological; the hydraulics were working fine, just like they did when he put the armor on six hours ago and felt as light as air and as strong as steel.
He held his helmet in his hands, in his lap; red and gold was scorched and scratched in places, his hands, his legs, one side of the helmet blackened, a dent scant inches below the arc reactor from where some triple-A went off in his face and knocked him out of the air and out of control, and he'd clotheslined himself against the horizontal arm of a crane. It had been just a routine mission, HYDRA's goons and a smuggling operation, illegal arms, probably Stark tech though Tony hadn't dared look. He'd probably find out in the briefing. Tony had stayed in the air, a one-man strike force, keeping one eye on Steve and the other eye on the rest of the team.
Steve was sitting next to him, his head tipped back, cowl off and eyes closed. The shield rested on its edge on the floor, supported on either side by Steve's knees. He hadn't taken any bad hits - except for the unfortunate moment with the flak, Tony had been playing the guardian angel since the fight started. Steve was scuffed in all the obvious places, a graze on his cheek and dirt on his face, costume thoroughly battered. His hair was still a little damp, and a little pressed down from the cowl.
The plane was silent, blissfully so, everyone exhausted and hurting and glad to be able to stop moving for a little while, and suffering from the shaking dizziness of the crash after the adrenaline-fuelled fight. Tony was content with that. The atmosphere made him think; first about the repairs he'd have to do to his armor, how he'd get the dents out and clean it up and repaint it; and then about the plane, the mechanism of the jet engine, the thrust-to-weight ratio, the stealth features and the max speed, and about how he could go faster. Pretty soon, though, his mind exhausted all the interesting features of the jet and cast around for something else. Luckily, it didn't have far to go.
How familiar does this feel, Tony wondered, to Steve? Does it still remind him of the B-25 if he closes his eyes? Until he'd woken up in the 21st century, the only airplanes Steve had ever been in were the bombers. Tony glanced over at Steve, saw his eyes were closed, and felt a powerful desire to know exactly what the other man was thinking right at that moment. Does it still scare him a little, even though he never lets on?
Steve must have felt Tony staring, because he opened his eyes and grinned a little, tired and fond.
"Something on your mind, Tony?"
Tony smiled back, shrugged a little and sat back, running his thumb over the brow of his helmet.
"Not in the ways that implies," Tony reassured him, looking down at his helmet, at Iron Man's face. Though he looked up at Steve's face instead, surprised and a little hesitant, when Steve laid his hand on Tony's arm reassuringly, battered and worn red leather against scuffed red armor.
"All of us were pretty worried when you took that flak, y'know," he said softly. "I was worried."
Tony almost laughed. He'd almost forgotten about the girder. He hadn't been thinking about it even as it happened; he'd been thinking about Steve. "Steve..."
"I'm not trying to be nosy," Steve said quickly, a little apologetically. "I'm just saying, these things can hit kinda hard sometimes--"
"Steve," Tony said, glancing briefly over at Hank - definitely distracted, probably asleep, good - before laying his hand over Steve's on his arm. "I'm fine. I wasn't thinking about that. I'd… sort of forgotten it had happened."
He squeezed Steve's hand when the other man looked a little nonplussed, Tony thought a little horrified but perhaps not. It was Steve, after all. "Really. It wasn't as bad a hit as it looked," he said, only half telling the truth. Three inches higher and it could have done some real damage. Steve almost certainly hadn't realised that Tony had been covering him. Tony didn't tell him; Tony didn't think to. He wasn't doing it for credit, he was doing it to protect the people that needed protecting in the battle. As far as Tony was concerned, it was just tactics.
So he really wasn't expecting it when Steve, all gentle concern, leaned over and pulled him closer, and kissed him. Tony's eyes widened at first, and then fluttered half closed as he melted into the kiss. How could he resist? Steve kissed like they kissed in the movies, soft and firm, drawing Tony closer rather than smothering him. It wasn't lustful, but meant to communicate things like reassurance and care (and Tony didn't dare think 'love'), and it was absolutely nothing like kissing a woman. Hell, Steve barely opened his mouth; it was just pressure and warmth and it made Tony feel like his spine had just dissolved, his world narrowing down to the powerful, contented hum of the Quinjet and the wonderful warmth and comfort of Steve's mouth against his.
When Steve pulled away, Tony just blinked up at him. "What was that for?"
"You looked like you needed it," Steve replied, smiling gently, and Tony thanked his lucky stars that the man believed in things like true love and meant to be, and was willing to do things like kiss him in the Quinjet even though he was blushing to hell because of it.
He spotted the end of an adoring, pleased look from Jan, turning away as Tony turned around, and after a moment of internal conflict Tony just sank back into his seat. It took forty more seconds for his head to droop on to Steve's shoulder as he began to pass out.
Steve tipped his cheek against Tony's head, settled his hands back on the edge of his shield, and didn't move a muscle until they'd landed.
--
title: the second week of february
author:
theaviatorfifi rating: nc-17
warnings: none
pairings/characters: steve, tony, pepper, happy
word count: 3697
a/n: and this fic for the wonderful
quintum <3 happy late valentine's day! god, so this basically just... exploded as i was writing it... because i couldn't bring myself to not resolve it, and then i had a cute plan for how tony would resolve it, and then i remembered that the rating was meant to be nc-17... and it just got longer and longer and now it's over three and a half thousand words. D: prompt: "steve remembers v-day. tony forgets. nc-17 and down."
Tony was not actually very susceptible to jet lag, but he was pretty sure that the month of January had taken him to just about every timezone where people did business with each other and by the time February rolled around, he was waking up without knowing whether to expect New York, Tokyo, Sydney, LA or London. And he was tired. He'd been tossed around the globe like a fucking ping pong ball and when he walked - well, staggered, in fact, more dead than alive after another transcontinental flight - back into his office, Pepper had canceled every meeting that week and sent him home. Tony couldn't deny he wasn't grateful for it.
The first week of February was spent largely asleep. The time not spent sleeping was spent with Steve (though if Tony could possibly make it happen, they didn't actually leave the bedroom), because Tony had decided that a month away from New York was definitely too long, and that he liked Steve's methods of getting him to go to sleep a lot better than he liked Pepper's, which were mostly just extortion of various kinds.
The jet lag was gone by the second week, though, and Tony realised he had a week of work to make up for and what practically counted as a full set of blueprints for a redesign of the armor drawn in ballpoint pen on the back of American Airlines napkins. And that he'd just spent a week in bed (all right, so maybe he'd been playing it up a bit, but still!) and that the number one thing he wanted to do at that moment was go down to the shop and do something productive.
He really did just work from the napkins, spreading them out on one of the worksurfaces without bothering to draw up proper blueprints. An engineering team could never have followed the little sketches but for Tony they were perfectly adequate - he could work straight from them and from the images in his mind of what the designs should look like and how they should work.
He worked for twenty eight hours straight before he finally collapsed, his face pillowed against his arms, slumped over the worktable, and awoke four hours later - just a nap, but it was enough to recharge him and give him the energy to go on for another good twenty hours or so, followed by another nap…
--
"Tony?"
Tony started awake to the sound of Steve's voice - he didn't remember falling asleep, but he guessed he must have been working for a good three or four days, which was probably good cause to come looking for him. Steve had the entry codes to the shop… Tony groaned and practically peeled himself off the table, every muscle in his back protesting.
"Aaaggh… mornin', Steve," he mumbled, and then paused. "Afternoon. Aah.. what time is it?" He blindly grabbed the cup of coffee he'd been drinking the previous night, sipping the cold liquid in an effort to make himself a little more coherent.
Steve came up behind him, two big hands settling on his shoulders and digging in. Tony nearly dropped his coffee as his sore muscles protested, but it was a pleasant kind of pain, and he carefully set the mug down and slumped forwards, shivering pleasantly when Steve kissed his neck, the agony in his back slowly slipping away as Steve firmly massaged his shoulders.
"It's ten thirty in the morning," Steve murmured, kissing his ear. This was odd - Steve wasn't usually this… tactile. Something was off.
"Mm. Morning then." Tony flexed his shoulders and hissed a breath in through his teeth as Steve's hands slid a little lower and kept massaging the tension out of the muscles. "Mmgh, god, Steve, that's nice."
"Good," smiled Steve, hands moving higher again and easing the strain out of Tony's neck. Tony let out a heavy breath, sinking down against the table.
"What day is it, by the way?"
Steve's hands went still. "…Tony…"
Tony opened his eyes and blinked, confused. "…Did I say something wrong?"
Steve sighed. "Tony… You forgot, didn't you?"
Oh, god, he was hurt. Steve didn't use that tone of voice that often - only when his feelings had actually been hurt. Shit shit shit. All Tony had done was want to know what day of the week it was. "I know this is going to make it worse," Tony said cautiously, "but I really have no idea what you're talking about."
Steve made a quiet, slightly indignant, slightly exasperated noise. Oh, god, he'd made it worse. "How long do you think you've been here, Tony?" Steve asked.
Tony hazarded a guess. "Three, four days tops?"
"Oh, Tony…"
"How long have I been here?" Tony asked, getting the distinct feeling that he didn't want to know.
"A week," Steve told him.
Tony did the math.
"…It's Valentine's Day today, isn't it," he said, and Steve sighed. "Steve, fuck, I am so sorry--"
"Don't worry about it, Tony," Steve said quietly. Tony turned around, getting to his feet and putting his hands on Steve's arms, giving him a pleadingly apologetic look.
"Really, Steve, I have taken four naps down here. I didn't think it could possibly have been more than about four days--"
"I said, don't worry about it," Steve said, patting Tony on the shoulder. "You get cleaned up, I'll see you later on today."
Tony bit his tongue, looked away and hid a wince. "…Yeah," he murmured, "Yeah, okay, Steve."
Steve turned away, making for the door. "Steve?" Tony blurted, and Steve looked back. "Steve… I'm really sorry," he mumbled. Steve nodded, shrugged, smile. "I know, Tony," he said. "It's fine."
Tony looked at the floor until Steve had shut the door behind him, and then sat down again, face in his hands. "Fuck," he said out loud. "Fuck! I am a terrible, horrible boyfriend."
--
Initially he'd been ready to chew out Pepper for not reminding him in good time of the date, but he'd had the feeling he wouldn't be so lucky, and sure enough a glance at his phone revealed a backlog of messages reminding him of just that, dating back four days. That would teach him to put his phone on silent. Christ… he was going to get a reminder tattooed on to his arm for this date. It was the kind of thing, he knew, that would be important to Steve; a largely commercial celebration of true love was exactly the sort of thing he went in for, and it was the first Valentine's Day that they had been properly together and could have been Tony's opportunity to really make up for a month spent in the air and a week in the shop except that now he'd fucked it up.
He didn't have time to sit and be self-pitying, he knew - he poured himself another cup of coffee, hot this time, and speed-dialled Pepper.
"You forgot, didn't you?" Pepper said immediately as she picked up the phone. Tony winced. Was he that predictably horrible?
"Kind of," he replied guiltily. "Look, Pep, I really need some help here. This situation is going to be FUBAR if I don't figure out something amazing to make this up to Steve."
Pepper clucked. "You know, Tony, a proper apology should come from you, not your secretary," she told him, not letting her smile creep into her voice.
"Pepper, please!" Tony yelped. "I didn't even know what day it is! Take pity!"
Pepper laughed - Tony raised his eyebrows a little. He was being cute out of habit, but he really did need Pepper to help him. "Fine," she sighed finally, and Tony slumped in relief and grinned. "Get up here, take a shower, and I will help you."
"You're a life-saver, Pep," Tony told her. "I promise I will never put your ringtone on silent again."
"You can't stick to that promise, Tony. Get moving."
"Right away." Tony hung up and breathed a sigh of relief. With Pepper on the job, he had more or less nothing to worry about.
--
Steve was hurt - it was only natural - but he wasn't really all that angry with Tony. He knew the man well enough to know that he really wasn't lying when he said he hadn't taken more than four naps in a week - and he knew him well enough not to begrudge him the time he could spend really absorbed in his work. He knew Tony would apologize - if, for some reason, he tried to spend the rest of the day hiding in guilt, Steve had decided he would give Tony until half past eight before he went over and took him out for dinner. He also knew this wouldn't be necessary; Tony would find a way to make it up to him. So when there was a knock on the door at 7pm on the dot, Steve smiled, shook his head a little and got up to answer it. He was admittedly a little curious to see what Tony's apology would look like, and wasn't too surprised to find Happy standing outside.
"Hey, Happy," Steve greeted. So Tony was taking him somewhere... "Something happening?"
"Hi, Steve," Happy grinned; he'd long ago stopped calling Steve 'Mr Rogers', more than happy to be on first name terms with the man. "Tony says I'm taking you somewhere, location classified."
Steve raised his eyebrows a little. "Classified, huh? All right, hold up, I'm coming." He grabbed a jacket, a scarf and a pair of gloves - it was below thirty outside and just because it was virtually impossible for him to catch a cold didn't mean he shouldn't be wrapping up warm anyway. Besides, he had no idea what Tony was planning.
"All right," he said, pocketing his keys, and Happy straightened up from where he'd been leaning against the doorframe. "Lead the way."
--
The windows in the back of the car had been blacked out, not that Steve really minded - he trusted Tony and he trusted the people Tony trusted. Happy held the back door open for him and he obligingly got in, immediately spotting a small white box sitting on the backseat, tied with red and blue ribbon. Steve couldn't help but smile fondly, mostly because Tony had specifically picked those colors and partly because he genuinely liked it. He buckled his seatbelt and untied the ribbon - the box contained three pieces of candy, Hershey's: two Kisses and a Hug. Steve laughed aloud. Oh, Tony… Steve could guess that any woman Tony accidentally scorned would have been finding something from Cartier's in that box. He couldn't help but be pleased that Tony knew him well enough to know that he would infinitely prefer affectionate candy to some unnecessarily expensive token gift.
He ate the candy while they drove (Hershey's was his favorite and Tony knew it), making sure to put the foil wrappers and paper tape back in the box so as not to get Tony's car messy, and by the time they stopped and Happy got out to let Steve out, his mouth still tasted of chocolate.
He didn't actually know where they were, but the moment Happy opened the door and he got out, he recognized it. They were on Governor's Island, right up by the shore, and just a little way across the water the Statue of Liberty rose proudly. Steve couldn't help but smile; fond, maybe just a little moved. A flash of light by the statue's crown caught his eye in time to spot Tony diving down towards them, a flash of red and gold. He touched down with a thud in front of Steve, his mask down, standing a good head taller than him in the armor. Steve smiled up at him.
"Steve," Iron Man said, and even though it was impossible to tell what his tone was through the voice modulator, Steve knew it would be relieved, affectionate, just a little bit grateful. "Glad you could make it. Thanks, Happy, that'll be all," he added, and Happy nodded and grinned back, shutting the back door and getting back into the car, starting the engine and driving off.
"Can I guess what's going to happen, Tony?" Steve asked, and Tony made a twitching movement that in the armor meant a shrug.
"I hope not," he replied, and then slowly - so that Steve could see what was coming, no sudden movements - he moved forwards and wrapped his arm around Steve's waist, holding them close and just a little more intimate than when they were flying together on missions, easily lifting his weight with the armor's added strength, and using his other hand to stabilize, he engaged the boot jets and took to the air.
Flying with Tony was still a rush, a roller-coaster lurch and thrill that made Steve's heart jump into his throat, even at a comparatively slow speed of no more than a hundred and fifty, two hundred miles per hour. Steve leaned in close, feeling the warm hum of the armor pressed solidly against him, the light of the arc reactor illuminating the shared space between them. They tore vertically up into the air, and then spiralled lazily over the water towards Liberty Island. Steve held on tight to Tony's shoulders but even with only one arm Steve knew that Tony had him more than securely, that there was no risk of him falling. After the initial burst of speed that left Steve's pulse racing, he slowly relaxed against the other man, looking down at the water sparkling below them, and then - with nothing short of awe - at the glittering expanse of the city before them, the skyline carved out in a blaze of light against the night sky. It was cold, but Tony was warm in the armor and Steve didn't really noticed the cold, especially not with the warm armor against him and the scenery taking his breath away.
By the time Tony came to a stop, their feet were bare inches above the rays of Lady Liberty's crown, and Tony engaged error correction on the armor which made the responses slower but kept him from accidentally flipping them into a spin if he forgot where his feet were. He got both arms around Steve, the armor's hydraulics supporting his weight, and the mask retracted, revealing Tony, flushed and bright-eyed from flight and smiling just a little bit sheepishly.
"Hey," he said, and Steve smiled back brightly.
"Hey."
"I'm sorry I forgot about today, Steve," Tony murmured - the wind was high up here, whistling around the statue and around them, but they were close enough together that they could speak softly and still be heard.
"I know," Steve replied. "It's okay, Tony."
Tony smiled in relief, and then leaned forwards, offering a kiss. Steve tilted his head in acceptance and Tony closed the distance between them, holding Steve tightly against him and kissing him deeply, tipping him back a little. Steve closed his eyes, of course, but Tony generally kissed with his eyes open, aware of the scenery around and below them, aware of Steve's expression and the wind whipping his hair, every pleased little noise from Steve muffled into the kiss making him melt.
"Happy Valentine's Day," Tony said, just a little breathless as he pulled back, and Steve laughed.
"You too, Tony."
--
Steve had sort of guessed he wouldn't be getting back to his apartment that night, and he was proven right - Tony, of course, had other ideas. They'd ended up lazily circling the statue, winding higher and higher into the air, Tony's kisses getting more and more heated with one metal hand trailing over Steve's body and both of Steve's gloved hands stroking the armor. In the end, Tony had broken after ten minutes, leaning in to mouth at Steve's jaw and ear.
"If you're sure you've forgiven me," he whispered, "why don't we, uh, go back to my place?"
"Sounds like a swell plan, Tony," Steve murmured back, and barely had time to remember to cling to Tony's shoulders before he fully reengaged the boot jets and rolled to the side in a stomach-lurching drop, before gunning it back to his penthouse. They landed with a crunch on the roof, Steve's legs shaking from the incredible flight, and he stumbled a couple of times, holding Tony's arm and laughing before he managed to get his feet under him.
"I feel like a real dame, holding on to you like this," Steve joked - and that was all it took for Tony to duck, get an arm around the back of Steve's knees and swing him up into his arms. He couldn't have hoped to achieve this without the armor, but right now he had hydraulic strength that let him lift hundreds of tons and he'd be a fool not to put it to good use. Besides, it was worth it for the way Steve yelped and blushed.
"Tony! I was just kidding-- put me down!"
"You can return the favor on our wedding night," Tony replied lightheartedly, teasing Steve, and not putting him down. Steve fussed, the blush deepening a little, but he relented and sank against Tony's chest. It wouldn't have been easy to get out of the armor's grip anyway, and he didn't really mind. So instead, he let Tony carry him to the bedroom - thankfully he was set back on his feet at the door, which Tony quickly shut behind him before disengaging the locks on the armor and shedding pieces of metal, running bared fingers through his hair that had been pressed down by the helmet.
Steve followed suit, taking off his scarf and gloves and dropping them on the chair of Tony's desk, his jacket quickly following. Tony was watching him like a hawk as he stripped the armor off without even needing to look, and it brought back that light flush to Steve's cheeks. Tony, needing the arc reactor to connect with the armor's power systems, was only wearing his boxers underneath all the metal - stripping it away just revealed flushed skin, and Steve folded his arms a little self-consciously and let Tony divest himself of the entire suit before he moved again. He was still fully dressed and Tony was almost completely bare - he could see Tony noticing this fact and grinning wolfishly, coolly, casually sliding his underwear off and then turning and walking in a hip-swaying stride over to the bed, making Steve chase him.
Steve did, of course, without reservation, watching as Tony shamelessly spread himself out on the quilt, arching his hips to draw attention to how hard he was - for Steve - and stretching his arms above his head. He was being purposefully coquettish, but grinning like an idiot as he took in Steve's appreciative expression, cheeks dark and pupils just a little dilated.
"Something you want, Steve?" he asked lowly, and Steve swallowed and breathed out just a little shakily.
"Uh huh," he mumbled - seeing Tony like this always got Steve kind of tongue tied, and Tony thought it was adorable and tried to induce it as often as possible. Steve knelt on the bed, bending to kiss Tony again, and Tony got his fingers under Steve's shirt and tugged it up, breaking the kiss to get it over Steve's head and quickly claiming his lips again as he threw it off to the side, running his hands down Steve's chest and stomach, and the lower without skipping a beat, palming the bulge in Steve's pants. Steve gasped right on cue, his hips leaning forwards into Tony's hand,
"Ah-! Tony…"
"Do not say anything about me being shameless," Tony told him firmly, speaking against his lips, unwilling to break the kiss as he teased Steve mercilessly through his pants. "It's pointless to state the obvious."
"Hnn…" replied Steve, mouthing at Tony's neck, his eyes closed as he concentrated on the sweetly masculine smell and taste of Tony's skin - and then snapping open as Tony somehow undid his pants with one hand in one movement, sliding his hand inside and wrapping his fingers around his cock. "Ah! Tony!"
Tony grinned smugly as Steve shuddered against him, rocking his hips shallowly into Tony's hand as he squirmed about a little to toe off sneakers and socks, crawling up on to the bed properly and catching Tony's wrist.
"Let up a minute," he gasped, making to pull his jeans off - but Tony moved immediately, catching Steve and flipping them over, pinning him down to the mattress.
"Whoa there!" Steve yelped, surprised but smiling, and Tony smirked at him.
"Hey, you taught me how to do that, you bring these things on yourself," he retorted, bending his head to nuzzle and kiss at Steve's neck, slowly making his way down the other man's body with kisses and licks and gentle little bites that made Steve gasp and shudder under Tony's hands and mouth. The blonde settled back, big hands stroking over Tony's shoulders, fingers threading through his hair and making him purr like a kitten. Steve was smiling slightly, wholeheartedly enjoying the sensations, his eyes closed and his head tipped back, pleasured little noises escaping slightly parted lips.
Tony was looking up at him as he covered his body in kisses, gradually making his way lower. He adored the way Steve looked during sex - flushed and happy and utterly genuine, radiating pure enjoyment, giving himself over entirely to the pleasure Tony gave him. He slid Steve's jeans and underwear off in one go with his hands, discarding them over the edge of the bed somewhere, and bent his head to suckle at Steve's hip, shivering at the low, pleasured sound it earned him.
Finally Tony wrapped his hand around Steve's cock and slowly eased his mouth over him, making Steve groan and arch just slightly, just enough to encourage without forcing any more of himself into Tony's mouth, hands tightening in Tony's hair.
"Oh, god, Tony… yes..."
Tony breathed out hard through his nose, his senses overwhelmed with Steve's taste and smell, the weight of him in his mouth and the pleasantly aching stretch of his lips and jaw as he took Steve in deeper. He leaned on one elbow propped up at Steve's hip, and slid his other hand down to stroke himself slowly as he closed his eyes and devoted the rest of his focus entirely to the task of giving Steve an absolutely phenomenal blowjob.
Steve was usually fairly quiet during sex, but it made the noises he did make all the better - his little moans and gasps got steadily louder and more ragged until finally his hips jerked up a little harder than usual, and he just about managed to choke out, "Tony, ah, I-I'm gonna-- Ah! Tony!"-- and then he was coming, hard, one hand clenched just a little too tight in Tony's hair and the other gripping the sheets almost tight enough to tear them. Tony groaned, taking Steve right to the back of his throat and swallowing everything, his eyes half-open, his face flushed and his hair damp. Finally he pulled of, his tongue flicking over his lips, breathing through his mouth and drawing air like a racehorse as he knelt with one hand on the bed and got himself off. His eyes were closed again, his body bent over Steve's hips, trembling with frustrated pleasure. Steve lay for eight seconds before he sat up, and Tony didn't notice until Steve was kissing his face and covering Tony's hand with his own, directing his strokes. Tony groaned, biting his lip and nuzzling into Steve's shoulder, and it didn't take long at all under that kind of sexiness for Tony to tense, shudder violently and come hard, hot liquid striping across Steve's hip. Tony could be as loud as a whore if he wanted to put on a show, but left to himself, he was exceptionally quiet, and finally he slumped against Steve exhaustedly, shivering with the afterglow of pleasure with a soft, deep moan.
"Tony…" Steve murmured, kissing his temple, his hair, and Tony made a low contented noise, lips curving into a sated smile. He felt Steve tense and shift underneath him, and familiarity let him know that Steve was making for the kleenex - Tony pushed him clumsily down and bent his head, licking the splashes of cum off Steve's skin. When he looked up again, Steve was staring down at him and blushing beet red, like he'd never seen Tony do that before. Tony just gave him a winning smile, and then collapsed forwards, snuggling up to Steve and sprawling across him, his head tucked under Steve's jaw.
"That," Tony purred, "was great. That was fantastic. God, Steve. It shouldn't be nearly so sexy when you do that."
Steve made an amused, fond, and slightly scandalized noise, rubbing his cheek against Tony's head a little and holding him close. "Mm… you were great too, Tony," he hummed. "You always are…" It was about as close as Steve got to saying anything actually dirty after sex - he'd dirty-talked Tony a couple of times to tease him and Tony could vouch that it was the sexiest thing on the face of the planet, but afterwards he tended to be warmly, kindly complimentary and nothing more. Tony hardly minded; it was sweet as hell.
"Want to go find some food when I've recovered?" Tony slurred. He'd nap for ten minutes and then get up and shower, he reckoned. Steve nodded, exhaling and relaxing into the mattress and into Tony.
"Love to," he murmured - apparently he had the same idea as Tony. That was all well and good.
Well, Tony thought just as he slipped into unconsciousness, Operation: Make Up For Forgetting Valentine's Day To Captain America had definitely been a success.