cap_ironman_fe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cap_ironman_fe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cap_ironman2011-12-26 02:58 pm
cap_ironman_fe) wrote in cap_ironman2011-12-26 02:58 pm
Entry tags:
Happy Holidays, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derryderrydown part three!
Title: The Billionaire Hooker's Deceived Artist
Author:tsukinofaerii
Betas: Jazzypom & Waterofthemoon
Rated: NC17
Universe: Movie-ish AU
Warnings: Underage prostitution, canon (minor) character death
Word Count: ~28,000
Summary: During Tony's senior year at MIT, his partying habit finally
hit the edge of his parents' patience. When Howard and Maria cut him
off from his usual sources of money, he decides to turn to less
conventional ones.
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four
Ten Years Later
Tony wove back and forth through the crowd, champagne in one hand, girl in the other, a tiny, dark-haired girl with amazing hair and huge brown eyes. Sherry or Cherie or something of the sort. What was important was, she was hot, and she was his arm candy for the evening. She practically painted herself against him as he paused to chat up people, perfectly content to just nod along.
"It's good to see what you've done with the old family business, Anthony," the current old guy was saying, slapping Tony's shoulder. Nighttime and inside, and he was still in sunglasses. Tony couldn't recognize him for a lick anyway, but the glasses just made it impossible. "And good to see the Maria Stark Foundation taking off the way it has. Your mother would be proud, son."
Shrugging, Tony tried to look modest. It wasn't easy for someone as awesome as he was, but he had practice. "Mom always wanted to start a charity, and I've been interested in funding the arts since college." Well, being funded by them anyway, but the only people who knew that story were Pepper and Rhodey. Not even the tabloids had gotten a whiff of it, which was damn near a miracle, since they'd latched on to everything else he'd ever done. The way they got, he kept expecting to have to apologize to PETA for having bacon for breakfast. "It's good seeing you again, sir, but I really should refresh my drink."
Tilting his flute of champagne, Tony nodded and tugged his arm ornament off into the crowd, toward the bar. The bartender, who knew his boss and knew him well, already had a fresh flue ready when he got there.
One of Cherie's arms curled around his neck, drawing him down so she could whisper, "I'm going to powder my nose. Be back."
Batting his eyes, Tony smacked a kiss to her lips. "I'll be waiting."
She winked and swished off, hips rolling in her ridiculously high heels. Seeing her walk away was one of the best parts of goodbye. He settled against the edge of the bar, people watching while his date did whatever it was girls did in the bathroom when they said they were powdering their nose. Long experience had taught him that it probably involved lipstick and other men, but he could hardly complain, since he was usually the other man.
He loved parties, and especially loved the ones he got to host. Pepper had gotten good at anticipating what would be in for gala events in any given year, sometimes even setting the trend rolling. There was a thrill in watching people talk and know that they were talking about him. Same thing for tech expos, press conferences and the occasional tabloid cover.
Tony was just thinking about wandering over to a group of models and finding out if any of them would like to keep him company when a voice he hadn't heard for ten years said, "Tony?"
Someone blond and tall and oh god muscles edged his way through a group of older women. One of them made an obvious attempt to grab a handful of his ass, but he swiveled expertly out of the way without seeming to notice, like he had a grabby hands radar. "You're Tony, right? I almost didn't recognize you with the goatee, but..." He seemed to recognize Tony's blank expression for what it was because he added hopefully, "It's Steve. From school?"
"Steve—Steve?" Tony's jaw dropped. Sometime in the ten years since MIT, Steve had gone from scrawny to built. Even his well-tailored tuxedo was having trouble containing all his muscles. Tony didn't bother to hide how he was eying Steve up and down. Everyone else was doing it. Cliff, Tony Stark. Tony Stark, cliff. Jump, boy, jump! "You're... what the hell happened, did you get a visit from the sex fairy?"
A blush crawled up Steve's cheeks, still as bright as Tony remembered from all those fifty dollar nights out. "I started working out a few years ago. You—you look good too. You're doing okay?"
"Doing—yeah, I'm fabulous. Better now that you're here." Grinning, Tony hooked his fingers around Steve's arm—there was no way he'd get his arm around his shoulders without snuggling close, and if Tony was going to be wedged next to that he couldn't swear he wouldn't set off the grabby hands radar—and dragged him off. Cherie would find someone else to hang on for the night, old friends first. She'd manage. "What are you doing in New York? This is the last place I expected to see you."
"I did some art for the Foundation—a mural. It got me an invitation." Easy as ever, Steve let Tony pull him off away from the bar toward the sidelines. "What about you? What are you here for?"
The brief elation at seeing Steve again turned to a rock, plummeting to the bottom of Tony's stomach. I'm supposed to be giving a speech in fifteen minutes. Fuck. "You know. Business," he answered airily, while panic ran in ever faster circles through his skull, waving signs that featured the word apocalypse in bright lettering.
Had he ever told Steve his full name? He'd been really stupid about a lot of things back then, took dumb chances so often it was a miracle he'd made it to adulthood, but he was pretty sure who he was hadn't been one of them. And he'd changed a lot—there was a big difference between seventeen and twenty-seven. Not many people would look for their old hooker in the successful owner of a major multinational tech company.
"Business?" Steve stared at him with a worried frown, and yep, that expression still made Tony's heart hula hoop. All sorts of people worried about Tony, but none of them had quite as much impact as Steve. He still ate his vegetables, and his mother hadn't been able to accomplish that in seventeen years of nagging. "You're not still—you know. Are you?"
While his brain was otherwise occupied, Tony's mouth did what it usually did, which was get him in trouble. "That depends. Do you still have that fifty?"
Tony couldn't give that speech, couldn't hand out awards, and definitely couldn't get up on that stage. He wasn't going to stand up in front of thousands of rich assholes and watch while Steve made the connections, wasn't going to see the betrayal there. It just wasn't going to happen.
Possibilities ran through his head, side-by-side with panic. Drown myself in the pool? No, Pepper would fish me out, prop me up and make me do it anyway. Terrorist attack? Nope, news interview, Steve would see. Fake a heart attack? There had to be something, somehow, that would get him out of it without making the eleven o'clock news.
Steve's adam's apple bobbed. "I—yeah, I promised, didn't I?"
That brought Tony's feet—and thoughts—to a screeching halt. No one could be that much of a sap, could they? "Wait, you do?" Eyes narrowed, he whipped Steve around, peering up at him—and up, and up, and fuck, Tony hadn't thought he'd been this tall. "What, the same bills and everything?"
Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug that could have launched a thousand issues of Playgirl. The flush was back, creeping up his neck, and Tony really, really wanted to lick it and see if Steve still tasted the same. "Same bills."
"Wow. That's..." Incredibly, impossibly, adorably sweet, his mind kicked in for him. His dick added sexy as hell for good measure, as if Tony needed the reminder.
In his pocket, his phone alarm beeped. Out of time.
Without another word, Tony grabbed Steve's jacket and yanked him through a door, to the back area of the banquet hall. It wasn't technically off limits, but there was no one there to see him shove Steve back against a wall and press their mouths together. Steve groaned, melting down into the wall, and really, it was stupidly easy to fall back into things. Muscles of like some sort of superhero or not, Steve still kissed like Steve. When Tony stuck a hand down his pants, that was still Steve's, too, right down to the tighty whities—like letting the boys breathe would kill a man—and Tony really had spent too much time in the past ten years missing this.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it's an honor to be with you tonight—" Rhodey's voice said over the speakers from somewhere behind them.
Steve didn't protest when Tony pulled his dick out, but when Tony hit his knees, Steve grabbed his shoulders for dear life. "We shouldn't—not here," he hissed, pushing at him. Interestingly, Steve's dick seemed to disagree with the protest. "Someone will see us."
"No one will see, they're all waiting in the main hall." Slowly, Tony dragged his tongue over the head of Steve's dick and had the pleasure of watching him swallow again. "Come on, for old time's sake?"
"—pleasure to introduce to you the owner of Stark Industries and the founder of the Maria Stark Foundation, Mr. Anthony Stark!"
A nod. It wasn't an unequivocal yes, fuck me now, Tony! but it would do. Wrapping his lips around Steve's dick, Tony let it slide over his tongue, heavy and hard and actually somehow better than he remembered it. He groaned, eyes slipping closed when Steve nudged against the back of his throat. For a second, he thought about giving deep throating a try, but an experimental swallow called that off right quick. Gag reflex was still a thing, apparently.
"—Mr. Stark? Has anyone seen Mr. Stark?"
Tony worked his tongue along the undershaft, letting enthusiasm and memory stand in for practice. It had been years since he was the sucker rather than the suckee. Not that Steve seemed to care. He threaded his fingers through Tony's fashionable shaggy cut and moaning like no one had blown him for a decade.
Somewhere between Steve being careful not to yank on his hair—damn it Mr. Snuggles, you ruined a good thing—and his jaw starting to ache, Tony started to get hard. It wasn't much at first, a curl of heat, but it built until he found his hand sliding down from Steve's thigh to rub his palm over his groin.
"—I guess Mr. Stark's been called out, so I'll have to hand out awards—"
Rolling his eyes upward, he saw Steve watching him through heavy eyes, flush creeping over his neck and cheeks and goddamn if it wasn't the hottest thing Tony had seen all year. It was enough that he finally gave in and unzipped his own pants. Pride was for the young.
Moans muffled by Steve's dick, Tony didn't last nearly as long as he'd hoped. In spite of the pain in his jaw and the way his knees were starting to go numb, Tony finished with a bang, coming all over his hand and sleeve. Steve, sweet, quick to go off Steve, lasted at least another two minutes before he came, semen splashing across the back of Tony's throat and forcing him to swallow or choke.
They stayed there for a second, Tony with his forehead against Steve's hip and Steve still holding his head. In spite of having just come, Tony felt like he could go again, and maybe this time not so fast it was like being fourteen in the shower again.
"You made me miss my award," Steve muttered between pants. "I heard my name called."
"They'll mail it to you." Nuzzling his cheek against Steve's hip—Steve's muscled hip, not a bony part on him, and wasn't that a change?—Tony looked up. "You have a ride?"
"Motorcycle."
"Wanna get out of here? You already owe me a fifty—might as well get your money's worth."
The smile Steve gave him was nearly better than the orgasm. "Yeah. I've got an apartment. We can go there?"
When he came to his senses, Tony could already tell that he was going to hate himself. Lying to Steve when he'd been seventeen and dumb was one thing, but he was a grown man. There was no way Steve wouldn't find out, especially not with Tony's face popping up on magazine covers and news channels. It was kind of amazing that he hadn't found out yet already.
That just meant he'd have to keep from coming to his senses. Wouldn't be too hard; he'd managed not to for most of his life. "I know a back way out."
Steve habitually kept his apartment clean, in case company came over. He'd never been so grateful for that until he found himself unlocking the door to let Tony in.
Truthfully, he'd never expected to see Tony again. He'd hung onto the money because, well, it was a promise. You didn't break a promise just because you thought you'd never be called on it. Actually seeing him, dressed in a tuxedo that had obviously already been pawed over—by someone other than Steve—with lines starting to show up at the corners of his eyes, a little taller, a little broader in the chest and shoulder...
It made Steve feel like he was twenty four and still on that first fifty dollars again.
Tony looked around the living room like he could stick a price tag on everything in it, already half out of his tuxedo jacket. He toed the hardwood floor, then tilted his head back to eye the recessed lighting, then over to the sleek workstation tucked back in the corner. "Moving up in the world, huh? That a Starktech?"
Steve snatched up Tony's jacket before it could be folded up and left to wrinkle, carefully tucking it away in the coat closet with his own jacket and his riding leathers. "Yeah, I do graphics design sometimes. Nothing beats Starktech computers for it." Cost him an arm and a leg, but the quality difference more than made up for it. Jobs he wouldn't have been able to do by hand flowed.
"Yeah, I know." Grinning, Tony twisted and plopped himself down on the arm of Steve's couch. Knees spread, tie hanging loose and buttons disordered, he was a picture of debauchery that had Steve's fingers itching for a pencil. "No TV, huh. Guess you don't really need one. So you're doing okay? Really okay, not just being some old lady's boytoy?"
"I'm doing okay," Steve promised, sliding into the place between Tony's knees. Slim black silk tangled around his fingers as he used the tie to help keep Tony balanced. "Just finished a job for some books, and I might have a real position soon. Regular paycheck and everything."
"Really?" Tony's knees snugged up against Steve's hips, leaving the only thing between him and a short fall as a thin strip of black silk and Steve's good will. "That mean you might give me a call once in a while?"
"You didn't call me." Steve let go of the tie and gave a little push. Flailing, Tony toppled back to the couch cushions, with Steve following him down. He braced himself on either side of Tony's head, staring down at him. "Want to explain that one?"
A dozen different expressions flitted across Tony's face, from guilt to fear. The heels of his shoes pressed against Steve's thighs, sharp edges to contract the soft curve of the couch arm. "You're not going to believe me," Tony finally said, relaxing the rest of the way.
"Give it a shot anyway."
"My phone got stolen." Disbelief must have been obvious on Steve's face because Tony's heel jabbed into him. "No, really, hear me out. My phone got stolen, and it had a lot of sensitive information on it. Contacts, that sort of thing, so I had it remote-wiped as soon as I noticed it was gone."
That... made sense, actually. Whoever was in Tony's contact list could have been a customer. If Steve had been in his position, he probably would have done the same thing. "And the number? You changed it."
Impossibly, Tony sunk deeper into the cushions, when Steve had thought he'd already relaxed entirely. Sulky, avoidant, and guilty, he looked a lot more like he had back in college. "I was an idiot?"
Steve had rather been under the assumption that was already understood, but he had the good taste not to say so. "And?"
"And—after the funeral, I wasn't going back to Massachusetts. I had to stay in New York, take care of things, so I thought it would be easier to just... make a clean break of it." Tony didn't meet Steve's eyes. "And then I regretted it, but I couldn't get the number back no matter who I yelled at, and believe me, I did a lot of yelling."
It was a little late for Steve to wonder if he wanted to open the can of worms that was Tony again. No regret from how he'd spent way too much of his paycheck back then to rent Tony's time, but it was different doing things like that in college than it was as a working professional. And Tony was, apparently, still using his body to get by, which meant something had gone very, very wrong.
But it was Tony. Steve was already starting to wonder if he had a safe place to go after this, if he got regular meals, if his customers were safe. He didn't think he'd ever forgive himself if he let Tony walk out without at least being able to check up on him. "If I ask for your number again, you're not going to change it again, are you?"
Solemnly, Tony crossed his heart with a finger. Surprisingly strong arms locked around Steve's neck, forcing him down into a kiss. Facial hair scratched at Steve's cheek, strange and new and oddly exciting. "You didn't used to be this serious," Tony murmured against his lips. "What happened to my blushing art student?"
"He grew up." Tony's shirt was already nearly pulled out of his pants, so Steve finished the job, yanking it up. Abs rippled under Steve's fingertips as he pushed Tony's shirt up to his chin. His tongue followed, tasting the lines and ridges all the way up to Tony's nipple. "Learned some tricks, too. I'll trade you for your phone number."
Tony's back arched up into Steve's mouth. "I thought I was the one getting paid here," he breathed, voice dropping down an octave.
"My money, I'll spend it however I want." The button on Tony's trousers hadn't snapped all the way; it popped free with just a little pressure from Steve's thumb. Underneath—yes, boxer briefs, and a cock that was already getting hard. Steve pressed the heel of his hand to it, giving a light rub.
Using his stomach muscles, Tony lifted himself up, teeth sliding along Steve's earlobe. He whispered the number between bites. Steve rewarded him by working his fingers up and down the shaft, occasionally dipping lower to play with his balls.
Let go of Tony, or stay on the couch where there was less room to maneuver but a handy arm? Steve kissed Tony's jaw, tasting salty sweat and a bite of cologne that made his nose wrinkle. "Here or the bedroom?"
Tony's legs snapped tighter around Steve's waist so he could grind up into Steve's hand. "Bedroom," he groaned, rocking again. "Put those new muscles to work?"
"Lazy." But it actually wasn't much work to slip his arms around Tony's back and pull him up. Lower back muscles strained and would probably be sore if he had to do it twice, but it worked. Once Tony was up and balanced against his hips, Steve only had to keep him from falling, which was altogether a much easier task. They staggered from the den to the single bedroom, Tony doing his utmost to be dropped like a sack of potatoes by nibbling on Steve's neck and ear.
Steve held on until his knees bumped against the bed, at which point he let go. Tony bounced onto it, flailing as he tried to find his balance again. Before he could get his feet under him and start acting up, Steve grabbed his ankles and gave a hard yank until his hips were level with the edge of the bed. "Hold still."
Outrage turned Tony's face dark red, but Steve was already stripping off his shoes, tossing them into the corner with his dress socks. One quick tug pulled Tony's slacks down his hips, and another had them right off. Underwear was trickier. Tony started squirming, maybe trying to be helpful but mostly getting in the way until Steve just grabbed the elastic and pulled until they joined the pile of shoes. The shirt could wait; he didn't have the patience to deal with buttons.
"You could have just asked me to undress, you know." Dark blue eyes watched with fascination as Steve knelt down between Tony's knees. "What are you doing? I'm pretty sure blow jobs are my job in this arrangement."
"My money," Steve repeated, kissing the inside of one leg. The tattoo was still there on Tony's hip, a little faded with time. Darker, fresher, was another one over the top of it—a circle with an arrow coming out of it, like Mars in the astrology pages. "And who says I'm going for your cock?" Not that Tony's cock wasn't as gorgeous as the rest of him, dark at the head, leading down to a lighter flush over his tan skin, not quite hard but on its way. Steve wouldn't have minded swallowing it down at all.
His tongue trailed a line up Tony's skin, swirling whenever it touched a spot that got a shiver. The skin of his inner thigh was softer than the rest of it, smooth and only a little sweaty. Tony's breath let out in a hard sound when Steve pressed his knees up to lift Tony's hips off the bed. He dragged his teeth along the smooth stretch, leaving a line of fading red before he found enough meat to sink them into.
"Fuck!" Tony's whole body curled in, muscles going tight and straining.
Hurriedly, Steve let go, looking up to see if he'd gone too far. Sharp little gasps made Tony tremble, and his eyes were locked closed, but he tapped a heel against Steve's shoulder.
"Do that again?"
Grinning a little, Steve found another soft, tender place on the curve of Tony's ass and bit. This time when Tony bucked, he held on, sucking until he could taste blood rising under the skin. Skin popped when he let go, the suction having created a deep red spot, almost certain to bruise. Watching it darken made his throat tight. No matter who Tony was with after this, they'd know that Steve was there first.
Trembles ran up and down Tony's body, making him shake under Steve's hands. His cock had gone fully hard, and he held onto the coverlet like it was a life preserver. "You didn't used to be so bitey," he gasped, thumping his head back to the mattress.
"I've learned things." Nuzzling deeper between Tony's thighs, Steve dragged his tongue down his perineum, where the flavors were muskier, a little dirtier. "Want to see another one?"
"Oh God."
Deciding to take that as a yes, Steve let his mouth slide lower. It wasn't always the nicest act, but he loved it anyway. There was something amazing about feeling Tony's muscles tremble against his lips, the stretch and flutter as Steve's tongue slid over his sphincter. Tony's thigh flexed in his hand, squeezing, trying to lift himself higher. The ring of muscle stretched slowly around Steve's tongue, but Steve wasn't in a rush, anyway. Little dips and twists, massaging it open until Tony's hips rocked into him.
A stream of creative blasphemy flowed from Tony's mouth starting small with the Lord's name and working up to loud declarations of holy sex acts. Every roll of Tony's hips made Steve ache, heat twisting in his stomach. He'd wanted it, missed it, even after ten years. His cock pressed against the front of his trousers, heavy with want, but Steve only gave himself a few jerks to ease the ache down to something more bearable.
Steve pushed it as long as he dared, until Tony's balls were drawn tight and there was a very real chance he'd go off before Steve had a chance to do anything else to him. He hadn't waited ten years just for Tony to lose it that fast.
He left Tony in a puddled heap on the edge of the bed while getting condoms and lube from the bedside table. Dropping them to the bed, he started to strip. Exactly one tuxedo was all he had, and he didn't think he'd be able to look the dry cleaner in the eye if there were stains on it. Tiny buttons popped free under his fingers, a drift of cold air making his skin tighten.
Tony watched appreciatively, propped up on his elbows, pupils blown so wide it made his eyes look darker. The tuxedo shirt spread around him on the bed, a white splash of color against the dark-striped coverlet. "Damn, the gym works miracles."
Steve had gotten through most of everything else, but the honest appreciation in Tony's voice made him swallow. It had been ages since he'd really dated anyone and even longer since he'd had sex with someone. Unconsciously, he slowed down in shrugging his shirt off. Belt, shoes, and socks dropped into their own pile, leaving just the trousers. Locking eyes with Tony, Steve slowly opened the fly and pushed them down his hips.
The tip of a pink tongue darted out as Tony licked his lips. "Jesus, you're hot. When did you get this hot? How did I miss that? Come here."
Climbing up on the bed, Steve straddled Tony's thighs. "Maybe that'll teach you to change your number on a guy," he murmured, running his thumb down Tony's dick. It was thick and dark, so hard it was almost painful-looking. For a second, just one, Steve was tempted to ignore the condom and just—but no, besotted didn't have to be the same as stupid. He'd already taken enough dumb risks not using a dam, and he should have known better.
Foil ripped without a struggle, and Tony let him roll the condom on with only a little roll of his hips. When Steve rubbed the lube to warm it, Tony smiled. "You're still the only person I know who does that."
"Good."
Little steps, one by one, doing things right kept his hands steady, gave him the strength not to just push Tony back down and fuck him. Back in college, he'd never really adapted to one night at a time, taking what he could get, and then Tony was gone, and that had been that. Steve wasn't going to make that mistake twice, but rushing wouldn't help anything.
As soon as it had lost its slight chill, Steve wrapped his hand around Tony's cock, smoothing it on thickly as he moved up Tony's hips. Cold air prickled his skin where lube brushed over it in a slick trail. One hand on Tony's cock and the other on his chest for balance, Steve lowered himself down. The burn was more than usual, a stretching pain that made Steve groan even when it made his cock throb. Once the first push was through it got easier, his body remembering that this was how to open up, and those were the muscles to relax, until he'd reached bottom and had to pause for breath.
Tony's hands massaged his hips, calluses scratching against Steve's skin. "You okay?" he asked quietly, rubbing circles with his thumbs.
A nod and a muttered yeah under his breath was the best Steve could do. Canting forward, he rocked his hips, letting the motion loosen him a little more, until the glide was smooth and easy. Good, so good, feeling Tony's cock again, spreading him out and filling him up. Not just any dick, not even just any prostitute, but Tony.
He rolled himself down and then back up, finding a rhythm and a speed that was perfect. Tony seemed to agree, cursing again, his hips rising occasionally to meet Steve's movements, awkward without any leverage. Sweat pooled in the hollow of Tony's stomach, little droplets running together until Steve wiped them away.
Muscles in his thighs ached, threatening to cramp the longer Steve rode him. His fists tightened in Tony's shirt as he leaned down for a kiss, messy and open-mouthed, lips sliding with every thrust. Somewhere, Steve had read that hookers didn't kiss, but Tony wasn't like the others, wasn't like anyone.
When Steve came, it was between one breath and the next, slamming into him and stealing every ounce of sense. He barely stopped himself from falling forward onto Tony, crying out as he spilled across his stomach.
With a ease of action that was so uniquely his own, Tony pushed Steve over onto his back, hips snapping as he fucked him through it. Steve opened his eyes just in time to see Tony's face twist, whole body going tense in orgasm.
They stayed like that, breathing, sweat chilling on their skin. Steve nuzzled kisses against Tony's neck, leaving bites in long trails that got him tired moans in answer. The condom discard wasn't the most graceful thing, but somehow they managed to move enough to get it tied off and put off to the side.
Soon enough, the stickiness got to be too much. Steve squirmed his way free, stumbling for the bathroom to get a washcloth. Turning on the hot water, Steve waited for it to warm up before running the cloth under it and wiping himself off, then rinsing it again for Tony.
In the mirror, Tony made one weak effort to drag himself upright. He ended up falling back again with a whumph. "I give up. Never moving again."
"Does that mean you'll stay the night?" Giving the cloth a squeeze to get out the excess water, Steve pitched it at Tony's chest. It missed and hit him in the shoulder. He flinched, but only slightly.
"Like you keep saying," Tony grinned, "it's your money."
Da-dun.
Da-dun.
Dadundadun. Dadundadun. Dundadundadadundadun—
Long years of practice allowed Tony to wake up just enough to recognize Pepper's ringtone and then snuggle back into the pillows without any hesitation. In this case, the pillow was actually a chest, and snuggling was wrapping himself around Steve like a python, but the principle held firm. Pepper would just call back again later or leave him an irate voicemail. It wasn't that often that Tony slept in, and he intended to enjoy it for all it was worth.
The sound of Pepper's imminent disapproval faded, then started again.
When his pillow moved, Tony tried to cling for a minute, but ultimately gave up and slid down into the mattress with a grunt. If Steve wanted to get a glass of water or pet a puppy or paint rainbows or whatever it was people like him got out of bed to do, so be it. Tony would be there waiting for him when he realized Tony was infinitely better than rainbows.
Steve didn't go far. At the very edge of consciousness, Tony heard him rummage around. It took two more renditions of Jaws before the bed dipped, and Steve's warm hip pressed against Tony's shoulder, jostling him.
"Tony," Steve hissed, in that weird, soft-but-loud voice people who weren't Pepper or Rhodey used when they were trying to wake someone. "Tony, your phone's ringing. It says—it says the name is 'the Boss'?"
Grunting his extreme lack of care, Tony rolled over and grabbed Steve's thigh, burying his face in it. No, not waking up. Pepper can't make me.
Another fade-out, and Jaws started up again. "Tony, I really think you should take this. They've been calling for a while."
"Ummf."
Another nudge as the theme started building to a crescendo, then something cold pressed against his ear. Beep.
"Good morning, Tony," Pepper said, voice a quiet purr that he was almost positive she'd learned from that hot Russian intern.
Instinct took control. Tony flailed upright, grabbing the phone out of Steve's hand. Only a quick save from Steve kept him from panicking himself right off the edge of the bed. "Pep—Pep, hi, I can explain—"
"Do you have any—any idea the kind of mess you left me with?" she growled, audibly through clenched teeth. "This was the single most important thing the Foundation has done this year, and you blew it off. We had an awards ceremony—do you remember that? Recognizing community efforts for local schools?"
Tony swallowed and sank back against the headboard. "Yeah, I remember—"
"You should. That was your idea. Yours. And Eddie Basil, the president of the Student Global Network? Gave a speech that you weren't there to introduce her for. The donation call got half of our anticipated numbers because Rhodey's good, but he's not you."
That made Tony wince. Donations were important—beyond important, they were everything to a 501c. He rubbed his face, dragging his hand across his five o'clock shadow and then back up to shade his eyes from reality. "I know—I know I was there to work, and I'm sorry—"
"Whatever it was, it had better have been important." Something heavy slammed onto a desk, and Tony was incredibly glad that Pepper hadn't chosen the video option. Bad enough to have fucked her over, he didn't want to see her face. Because her face wouldn't match her voice, her face would be hurt, and Tony would rather picture her spitting nails than hiding her face in her hands. "It had better be, because you promised, Tony. You promised that this would work, that the Foundation was important to you and you wouldn't screw this up."
"It was, Pep," Tony said softly. "It was important, and I'll explain to you this afternoon, I promise. And I'll make it up to you. I'll work overtime this week; you know I hate that. And I'll call Eddie and make arrangements—I'll take care of everything."
A deep breath, and that was likely as close to a sniffle as Pepper was going to get. "Please, Tony. Don't screw this up any more. If you're going to flake out, tell me now."
"I won't. I said I'll handle it, and I will."
"I hope so." The phone disconnected, drawing another wince from Tony. Usually Pepper could be counted on to stay polite, even if the face of unabashed Tonyness.
Letting the phone drop to the bed, Tony collapsed forward, resting his face in his hands. "So much trouble. So much trouble." He was going to have to work his ass off for a week to make up for this. When he'd ducked out with Steve, he hadn't even remembered about the speakers or the donations or any of it. He'd just been focused on not letting Steve know that essentially everything he knew about Tony was a damned lie.
Molehill into a mountain, that was how Tony Stark rolled.
"Are you okay?" Steve's big, warm hand rubbed between bare Tony's shoulders, up and down and in little circles, like he was a colicky baby. "What happened? Was that your... employer?" The word had strong overtones of drug dealer and a slight hint of boyfriend I don't approve of and will listen sympathetically as you complain about him over Ben & Jerry's at four AM.
Pimp. Pepper as his pimp, that was what Steve was trying to say, with some diplomacy and a lot of completely justified assumptions.
A giggle shook Tony's shoulders. Not a laugh or even the ever-manly chuckle, but an outright, panicked and overwhelmed giggle. He let himself collapse sideways into Steve's chest, convulsing. Oh god I'm in so much trouble.
Steve ran his fingers through Tony's hair. "Tony?"
"No—no not that. Just the person who handles my schedule." And everything else about his life. "I kind of blew off work last night. It's fine. I'll take care of it."
Under Tony's ear, Steve's chest jumped with a sharp sound of disapproval. His hand moved from Tony's hair back to his shoulders, rubbing again. "I didn't get you in trouble, did I?"
"Not you. I'm the one who completely spaced it. It's fine." Steve's chest was really amazing, broad and firm and so padded with muscle that Tony had to work to feel his ribs under it all. And warm. Back when they'd first met, Steve had always been cold, bundled up to his ears even at seventy degrees. Now he radiated heat like a furnace. Tony tucked his arm around Steve's waist and sank into him, letting the Pepper-induced tension melt away. "I wasn't lying when I said it was important."
"I'm important?" The pleasure in Steve's voice took care of the last bit of tension. "You haven't seen me for ten years. And I'm just—another customer."
Tony snorted. "Keep telling yourself that. You're important, and I'll handle the fallout." And there was going to be a lot of fallout. Tony might think keeping Steve from finding out he was a lying sack of shit was important. Pepper was probably going to have a different definition of the word. One that didn't involve having incredibly hot sex with incredibly hot blonds.
Silence, except Steve's heartbeat against his ear, and Tony could just imagine his blush without needing to look up and see it. "If you're in trouble...." Steve took a breath, jostling Tony a little. "If you're in trouble, you could come stay with me?"
For a second, Tony went still, immediately running down a checklist in his head. Not drunk, not high, awake... No, Steve really had just said that. "Did you just ask me to move in with you?"
"Yes?"
"...You're insane." Reluctantly, Tony peeled himself away from Steve's chest. Earnest was back in style on Steve's face. Jaw set, eyes sad, mouth just slightly soft with worry—if Tony were a better person, he'd have caved in like an undercooked soufflé. "You don't know me, Steve. I'm just some guy you used to pay for sex, and for all you know I could be a drug dealer or—or a murderer or some weird alien polymorph out for your DNA—thanks for that, by the way."
Muscles around Steve's jaw tightened. "I'm not an idiot, Tony. I know all of that."
Okay, there went that theory. "Then why would you ask me to live with you?"
"Because I like you." Tony opened his mouth, just in time to have Steve's palm press against it, just a little sticky with sweat and residues that needed more than a wet rag to get rid of. "Hush for a second and let me finish. I like what I know about you. I know that you're good company, and you're smart and good with mechanics, and you're a good guy who consistently undercharged me—shut up, I know prostitutes cost more than fifty dollars, especially for the stuff we did. And I know that unless you've changed more than I think, you're still too damned stubborn to accept help if I don't force it on you, so I'm forcing it. If you're still hooking ten years later, it's probably not because you choose to, and if you're in trouble, I want to help." Cautiously, he lifted his hand. "Okay, now you can talk."
"You're still insane—" Steve's face closed in, and his mouth opened. Tony lifted a finger in the air, shaking it. "Ah-ah-ah, no, my turn. Remember you said I could talk."
Still looking unhappy, Steve nodded. "I did."
The morning sunlight did something to his eyes, turning them from their usually plain blue to something clear and liquid and just damned pretty. Tony locked on to them, putting on his I'm A Serious CEO Saying Serious Things Face. It didn't work on anyone else, but Steve hadn't had enough exposure to develop an immunity, so there might be a chance. "I appreciate the offer. Really. But it's not needed."
"Are you sure?"
You could tell him the truth, an insidious little snake-like voice whispered in Tony's head. He was pretty sure it might be his conscience, which was weird, because if being the CEO of a multinational couldn't kill the damned thing, he didn't know what could. Tell him everything. He'll forgive you for lying back when you were a dumb kid, but you're an adult now.
Yeah, like doing the right thing ever helped. "I'm sure, Steve. Really, one hundred percent positive, absolutely and without a doubt sure. But if I do ever need help, I'll let you know."
"Promise?" The unhappiness lifted, just a little, but Steve still looked like he wanted to wrap Tony up in cotton. Which was fine, really; Tony had nothing against cotton. Just not then.
"I promise." Tony dragged his index finger over his heart. "And there's always those fifties from you, right?"
Steve finally smiled. "Right."
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four
Author:
tsukinofaeriiBetas: Jazzypom & Waterofthemoon
Rated: NC17
Universe: Movie-ish AU
Warnings: Underage prostitution, canon (minor) character death
Word Count: ~28,000
Summary: During Tony's senior year at MIT, his partying habit finally
hit the edge of his parents' patience. When Howard and Maria cut him
off from his usual sources of money, he decides to turn to less
conventional ones.
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four
Ten Years Later
Tony wove back and forth through the crowd, champagne in one hand, girl in the other, a tiny, dark-haired girl with amazing hair and huge brown eyes. Sherry or Cherie or something of the sort. What was important was, she was hot, and she was his arm candy for the evening. She practically painted herself against him as he paused to chat up people, perfectly content to just nod along.
"It's good to see what you've done with the old family business, Anthony," the current old guy was saying, slapping Tony's shoulder. Nighttime and inside, and he was still in sunglasses. Tony couldn't recognize him for a lick anyway, but the glasses just made it impossible. "And good to see the Maria Stark Foundation taking off the way it has. Your mother would be proud, son."
Shrugging, Tony tried to look modest. It wasn't easy for someone as awesome as he was, but he had practice. "Mom always wanted to start a charity, and I've been interested in funding the arts since college." Well, being funded by them anyway, but the only people who knew that story were Pepper and Rhodey. Not even the tabloids had gotten a whiff of it, which was damn near a miracle, since they'd latched on to everything else he'd ever done. The way they got, he kept expecting to have to apologize to PETA for having bacon for breakfast. "It's good seeing you again, sir, but I really should refresh my drink."
Tilting his flute of champagne, Tony nodded and tugged his arm ornament off into the crowd, toward the bar. The bartender, who knew his boss and knew him well, already had a fresh flue ready when he got there.
One of Cherie's arms curled around his neck, drawing him down so she could whisper, "I'm going to powder my nose. Be back."
Batting his eyes, Tony smacked a kiss to her lips. "I'll be waiting."
She winked and swished off, hips rolling in her ridiculously high heels. Seeing her walk away was one of the best parts of goodbye. He settled against the edge of the bar, people watching while his date did whatever it was girls did in the bathroom when they said they were powdering their nose. Long experience had taught him that it probably involved lipstick and other men, but he could hardly complain, since he was usually the other man.
He loved parties, and especially loved the ones he got to host. Pepper had gotten good at anticipating what would be in for gala events in any given year, sometimes even setting the trend rolling. There was a thrill in watching people talk and know that they were talking about him. Same thing for tech expos, press conferences and the occasional tabloid cover.
Tony was just thinking about wandering over to a group of models and finding out if any of them would like to keep him company when a voice he hadn't heard for ten years said, "Tony?"
Someone blond and tall and oh god muscles edged his way through a group of older women. One of them made an obvious attempt to grab a handful of his ass, but he swiveled expertly out of the way without seeming to notice, like he had a grabby hands radar. "You're Tony, right? I almost didn't recognize you with the goatee, but..." He seemed to recognize Tony's blank expression for what it was because he added hopefully, "It's Steve. From school?"
"Steve—Steve?" Tony's jaw dropped. Sometime in the ten years since MIT, Steve had gone from scrawny to built. Even his well-tailored tuxedo was having trouble containing all his muscles. Tony didn't bother to hide how he was eying Steve up and down. Everyone else was doing it. Cliff, Tony Stark. Tony Stark, cliff. Jump, boy, jump! "You're... what the hell happened, did you get a visit from the sex fairy?"
A blush crawled up Steve's cheeks, still as bright as Tony remembered from all those fifty dollar nights out. "I started working out a few years ago. You—you look good too. You're doing okay?"
"Doing—yeah, I'm fabulous. Better now that you're here." Grinning, Tony hooked his fingers around Steve's arm—there was no way he'd get his arm around his shoulders without snuggling close, and if Tony was going to be wedged next to that he couldn't swear he wouldn't set off the grabby hands radar—and dragged him off. Cherie would find someone else to hang on for the night, old friends first. She'd manage. "What are you doing in New York? This is the last place I expected to see you."
"I did some art for the Foundation—a mural. It got me an invitation." Easy as ever, Steve let Tony pull him off away from the bar toward the sidelines. "What about you? What are you here for?"
The brief elation at seeing Steve again turned to a rock, plummeting to the bottom of Tony's stomach. I'm supposed to be giving a speech in fifteen minutes. Fuck. "You know. Business," he answered airily, while panic ran in ever faster circles through his skull, waving signs that featured the word apocalypse in bright lettering.
Had he ever told Steve his full name? He'd been really stupid about a lot of things back then, took dumb chances so often it was a miracle he'd made it to adulthood, but he was pretty sure who he was hadn't been one of them. And he'd changed a lot—there was a big difference between seventeen and twenty-seven. Not many people would look for their old hooker in the successful owner of a major multinational tech company.
"Business?" Steve stared at him with a worried frown, and yep, that expression still made Tony's heart hula hoop. All sorts of people worried about Tony, but none of them had quite as much impact as Steve. He still ate his vegetables, and his mother hadn't been able to accomplish that in seventeen years of nagging. "You're not still—you know. Are you?"
While his brain was otherwise occupied, Tony's mouth did what it usually did, which was get him in trouble. "That depends. Do you still have that fifty?"
Tony couldn't give that speech, couldn't hand out awards, and definitely couldn't get up on that stage. He wasn't going to stand up in front of thousands of rich assholes and watch while Steve made the connections, wasn't going to see the betrayal there. It just wasn't going to happen.
Possibilities ran through his head, side-by-side with panic. Drown myself in the pool? No, Pepper would fish me out, prop me up and make me do it anyway. Terrorist attack? Nope, news interview, Steve would see. Fake a heart attack? There had to be something, somehow, that would get him out of it without making the eleven o'clock news.
Steve's adam's apple bobbed. "I—yeah, I promised, didn't I?"
That brought Tony's feet—and thoughts—to a screeching halt. No one could be that much of a sap, could they? "Wait, you do?" Eyes narrowed, he whipped Steve around, peering up at him—and up, and up, and fuck, Tony hadn't thought he'd been this tall. "What, the same bills and everything?"
Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug that could have launched a thousand issues of Playgirl. The flush was back, creeping up his neck, and Tony really, really wanted to lick it and see if Steve still tasted the same. "Same bills."
"Wow. That's..." Incredibly, impossibly, adorably sweet, his mind kicked in for him. His dick added sexy as hell for good measure, as if Tony needed the reminder.
In his pocket, his phone alarm beeped. Out of time.
Without another word, Tony grabbed Steve's jacket and yanked him through a door, to the back area of the banquet hall. It wasn't technically off limits, but there was no one there to see him shove Steve back against a wall and press their mouths together. Steve groaned, melting down into the wall, and really, it was stupidly easy to fall back into things. Muscles of like some sort of superhero or not, Steve still kissed like Steve. When Tony stuck a hand down his pants, that was still Steve's, too, right down to the tighty whities—like letting the boys breathe would kill a man—and Tony really had spent too much time in the past ten years missing this.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it's an honor to be with you tonight—" Rhodey's voice said over the speakers from somewhere behind them.
Steve didn't protest when Tony pulled his dick out, but when Tony hit his knees, Steve grabbed his shoulders for dear life. "We shouldn't—not here," he hissed, pushing at him. Interestingly, Steve's dick seemed to disagree with the protest. "Someone will see us."
"No one will see, they're all waiting in the main hall." Slowly, Tony dragged his tongue over the head of Steve's dick and had the pleasure of watching him swallow again. "Come on, for old time's sake?"
"—pleasure to introduce to you the owner of Stark Industries and the founder of the Maria Stark Foundation, Mr. Anthony Stark!"
A nod. It wasn't an unequivocal yes, fuck me now, Tony! but it would do. Wrapping his lips around Steve's dick, Tony let it slide over his tongue, heavy and hard and actually somehow better than he remembered it. He groaned, eyes slipping closed when Steve nudged against the back of his throat. For a second, he thought about giving deep throating a try, but an experimental swallow called that off right quick. Gag reflex was still a thing, apparently.
"—Mr. Stark? Has anyone seen Mr. Stark?"
Tony worked his tongue along the undershaft, letting enthusiasm and memory stand in for practice. It had been years since he was the sucker rather than the suckee. Not that Steve seemed to care. He threaded his fingers through Tony's fashionable shaggy cut and moaning like no one had blown him for a decade.
Somewhere between Steve being careful not to yank on his hair—damn it Mr. Snuggles, you ruined a good thing—and his jaw starting to ache, Tony started to get hard. It wasn't much at first, a curl of heat, but it built until he found his hand sliding down from Steve's thigh to rub his palm over his groin.
"—I guess Mr. Stark's been called out, so I'll have to hand out awards—"
Rolling his eyes upward, he saw Steve watching him through heavy eyes, flush creeping over his neck and cheeks and goddamn if it wasn't the hottest thing Tony had seen all year. It was enough that he finally gave in and unzipped his own pants. Pride was for the young.
Moans muffled by Steve's dick, Tony didn't last nearly as long as he'd hoped. In spite of the pain in his jaw and the way his knees were starting to go numb, Tony finished with a bang, coming all over his hand and sleeve. Steve, sweet, quick to go off Steve, lasted at least another two minutes before he came, semen splashing across the back of Tony's throat and forcing him to swallow or choke.
They stayed there for a second, Tony with his forehead against Steve's hip and Steve still holding his head. In spite of having just come, Tony felt like he could go again, and maybe this time not so fast it was like being fourteen in the shower again.
"You made me miss my award," Steve muttered between pants. "I heard my name called."
"They'll mail it to you." Nuzzling his cheek against Steve's hip—Steve's muscled hip, not a bony part on him, and wasn't that a change?—Tony looked up. "You have a ride?"
"Motorcycle."
"Wanna get out of here? You already owe me a fifty—might as well get your money's worth."
The smile Steve gave him was nearly better than the orgasm. "Yeah. I've got an apartment. We can go there?"
When he came to his senses, Tony could already tell that he was going to hate himself. Lying to Steve when he'd been seventeen and dumb was one thing, but he was a grown man. There was no way Steve wouldn't find out, especially not with Tony's face popping up on magazine covers and news channels. It was kind of amazing that he hadn't found out yet already.
That just meant he'd have to keep from coming to his senses. Wouldn't be too hard; he'd managed not to for most of his life. "I know a back way out."
Steve habitually kept his apartment clean, in case company came over. He'd never been so grateful for that until he found himself unlocking the door to let Tony in.
Truthfully, he'd never expected to see Tony again. He'd hung onto the money because, well, it was a promise. You didn't break a promise just because you thought you'd never be called on it. Actually seeing him, dressed in a tuxedo that had obviously already been pawed over—by someone other than Steve—with lines starting to show up at the corners of his eyes, a little taller, a little broader in the chest and shoulder...
It made Steve feel like he was twenty four and still on that first fifty dollars again.
Tony looked around the living room like he could stick a price tag on everything in it, already half out of his tuxedo jacket. He toed the hardwood floor, then tilted his head back to eye the recessed lighting, then over to the sleek workstation tucked back in the corner. "Moving up in the world, huh? That a Starktech?"
Steve snatched up Tony's jacket before it could be folded up and left to wrinkle, carefully tucking it away in the coat closet with his own jacket and his riding leathers. "Yeah, I do graphics design sometimes. Nothing beats Starktech computers for it." Cost him an arm and a leg, but the quality difference more than made up for it. Jobs he wouldn't have been able to do by hand flowed.
"Yeah, I know." Grinning, Tony twisted and plopped himself down on the arm of Steve's couch. Knees spread, tie hanging loose and buttons disordered, he was a picture of debauchery that had Steve's fingers itching for a pencil. "No TV, huh. Guess you don't really need one. So you're doing okay? Really okay, not just being some old lady's boytoy?"
"I'm doing okay," Steve promised, sliding into the place between Tony's knees. Slim black silk tangled around his fingers as he used the tie to help keep Tony balanced. "Just finished a job for some books, and I might have a real position soon. Regular paycheck and everything."
"Really?" Tony's knees snugged up against Steve's hips, leaving the only thing between him and a short fall as a thin strip of black silk and Steve's good will. "That mean you might give me a call once in a while?"
"You didn't call me." Steve let go of the tie and gave a little push. Flailing, Tony toppled back to the couch cushions, with Steve following him down. He braced himself on either side of Tony's head, staring down at him. "Want to explain that one?"
A dozen different expressions flitted across Tony's face, from guilt to fear. The heels of his shoes pressed against Steve's thighs, sharp edges to contract the soft curve of the couch arm. "You're not going to believe me," Tony finally said, relaxing the rest of the way.
"Give it a shot anyway."
"My phone got stolen." Disbelief must have been obvious on Steve's face because Tony's heel jabbed into him. "No, really, hear me out. My phone got stolen, and it had a lot of sensitive information on it. Contacts, that sort of thing, so I had it remote-wiped as soon as I noticed it was gone."
That... made sense, actually. Whoever was in Tony's contact list could have been a customer. If Steve had been in his position, he probably would have done the same thing. "And the number? You changed it."
Impossibly, Tony sunk deeper into the cushions, when Steve had thought he'd already relaxed entirely. Sulky, avoidant, and guilty, he looked a lot more like he had back in college. "I was an idiot?"
Steve had rather been under the assumption that was already understood, but he had the good taste not to say so. "And?"
"And—after the funeral, I wasn't going back to Massachusetts. I had to stay in New York, take care of things, so I thought it would be easier to just... make a clean break of it." Tony didn't meet Steve's eyes. "And then I regretted it, but I couldn't get the number back no matter who I yelled at, and believe me, I did a lot of yelling."
It was a little late for Steve to wonder if he wanted to open the can of worms that was Tony again. No regret from how he'd spent way too much of his paycheck back then to rent Tony's time, but it was different doing things like that in college than it was as a working professional. And Tony was, apparently, still using his body to get by, which meant something had gone very, very wrong.
But it was Tony. Steve was already starting to wonder if he had a safe place to go after this, if he got regular meals, if his customers were safe. He didn't think he'd ever forgive himself if he let Tony walk out without at least being able to check up on him. "If I ask for your number again, you're not going to change it again, are you?"
Solemnly, Tony crossed his heart with a finger. Surprisingly strong arms locked around Steve's neck, forcing him down into a kiss. Facial hair scratched at Steve's cheek, strange and new and oddly exciting. "You didn't used to be this serious," Tony murmured against his lips. "What happened to my blushing art student?"
"He grew up." Tony's shirt was already nearly pulled out of his pants, so Steve finished the job, yanking it up. Abs rippled under Steve's fingertips as he pushed Tony's shirt up to his chin. His tongue followed, tasting the lines and ridges all the way up to Tony's nipple. "Learned some tricks, too. I'll trade you for your phone number."
Tony's back arched up into Steve's mouth. "I thought I was the one getting paid here," he breathed, voice dropping down an octave.
"My money, I'll spend it however I want." The button on Tony's trousers hadn't snapped all the way; it popped free with just a little pressure from Steve's thumb. Underneath—yes, boxer briefs, and a cock that was already getting hard. Steve pressed the heel of his hand to it, giving a light rub.
Using his stomach muscles, Tony lifted himself up, teeth sliding along Steve's earlobe. He whispered the number between bites. Steve rewarded him by working his fingers up and down the shaft, occasionally dipping lower to play with his balls.
Let go of Tony, or stay on the couch where there was less room to maneuver but a handy arm? Steve kissed Tony's jaw, tasting salty sweat and a bite of cologne that made his nose wrinkle. "Here or the bedroom?"
Tony's legs snapped tighter around Steve's waist so he could grind up into Steve's hand. "Bedroom," he groaned, rocking again. "Put those new muscles to work?"
"Lazy." But it actually wasn't much work to slip his arms around Tony's back and pull him up. Lower back muscles strained and would probably be sore if he had to do it twice, but it worked. Once Tony was up and balanced against his hips, Steve only had to keep him from falling, which was altogether a much easier task. They staggered from the den to the single bedroom, Tony doing his utmost to be dropped like a sack of potatoes by nibbling on Steve's neck and ear.
Steve held on until his knees bumped against the bed, at which point he let go. Tony bounced onto it, flailing as he tried to find his balance again. Before he could get his feet under him and start acting up, Steve grabbed his ankles and gave a hard yank until his hips were level with the edge of the bed. "Hold still."
Outrage turned Tony's face dark red, but Steve was already stripping off his shoes, tossing them into the corner with his dress socks. One quick tug pulled Tony's slacks down his hips, and another had them right off. Underwear was trickier. Tony started squirming, maybe trying to be helpful but mostly getting in the way until Steve just grabbed the elastic and pulled until they joined the pile of shoes. The shirt could wait; he didn't have the patience to deal with buttons.
"You could have just asked me to undress, you know." Dark blue eyes watched with fascination as Steve knelt down between Tony's knees. "What are you doing? I'm pretty sure blow jobs are my job in this arrangement."
"My money," Steve repeated, kissing the inside of one leg. The tattoo was still there on Tony's hip, a little faded with time. Darker, fresher, was another one over the top of it—a circle with an arrow coming out of it, like Mars in the astrology pages. "And who says I'm going for your cock?" Not that Tony's cock wasn't as gorgeous as the rest of him, dark at the head, leading down to a lighter flush over his tan skin, not quite hard but on its way. Steve wouldn't have minded swallowing it down at all.
His tongue trailed a line up Tony's skin, swirling whenever it touched a spot that got a shiver. The skin of his inner thigh was softer than the rest of it, smooth and only a little sweaty. Tony's breath let out in a hard sound when Steve pressed his knees up to lift Tony's hips off the bed. He dragged his teeth along the smooth stretch, leaving a line of fading red before he found enough meat to sink them into.
"Fuck!" Tony's whole body curled in, muscles going tight and straining.
Hurriedly, Steve let go, looking up to see if he'd gone too far. Sharp little gasps made Tony tremble, and his eyes were locked closed, but he tapped a heel against Steve's shoulder.
"Do that again?"
Grinning a little, Steve found another soft, tender place on the curve of Tony's ass and bit. This time when Tony bucked, he held on, sucking until he could taste blood rising under the skin. Skin popped when he let go, the suction having created a deep red spot, almost certain to bruise. Watching it darken made his throat tight. No matter who Tony was with after this, they'd know that Steve was there first.
Trembles ran up and down Tony's body, making him shake under Steve's hands. His cock had gone fully hard, and he held onto the coverlet like it was a life preserver. "You didn't used to be so bitey," he gasped, thumping his head back to the mattress.
"I've learned things." Nuzzling deeper between Tony's thighs, Steve dragged his tongue down his perineum, where the flavors were muskier, a little dirtier. "Want to see another one?"
"Oh God."
Deciding to take that as a yes, Steve let his mouth slide lower. It wasn't always the nicest act, but he loved it anyway. There was something amazing about feeling Tony's muscles tremble against his lips, the stretch and flutter as Steve's tongue slid over his sphincter. Tony's thigh flexed in his hand, squeezing, trying to lift himself higher. The ring of muscle stretched slowly around Steve's tongue, but Steve wasn't in a rush, anyway. Little dips and twists, massaging it open until Tony's hips rocked into him.
A stream of creative blasphemy flowed from Tony's mouth starting small with the Lord's name and working up to loud declarations of holy sex acts. Every roll of Tony's hips made Steve ache, heat twisting in his stomach. He'd wanted it, missed it, even after ten years. His cock pressed against the front of his trousers, heavy with want, but Steve only gave himself a few jerks to ease the ache down to something more bearable.
Steve pushed it as long as he dared, until Tony's balls were drawn tight and there was a very real chance he'd go off before Steve had a chance to do anything else to him. He hadn't waited ten years just for Tony to lose it that fast.
He left Tony in a puddled heap on the edge of the bed while getting condoms and lube from the bedside table. Dropping them to the bed, he started to strip. Exactly one tuxedo was all he had, and he didn't think he'd be able to look the dry cleaner in the eye if there were stains on it. Tiny buttons popped free under his fingers, a drift of cold air making his skin tighten.
Tony watched appreciatively, propped up on his elbows, pupils blown so wide it made his eyes look darker. The tuxedo shirt spread around him on the bed, a white splash of color against the dark-striped coverlet. "Damn, the gym works miracles."
Steve had gotten through most of everything else, but the honest appreciation in Tony's voice made him swallow. It had been ages since he'd really dated anyone and even longer since he'd had sex with someone. Unconsciously, he slowed down in shrugging his shirt off. Belt, shoes, and socks dropped into their own pile, leaving just the trousers. Locking eyes with Tony, Steve slowly opened the fly and pushed them down his hips.
The tip of a pink tongue darted out as Tony licked his lips. "Jesus, you're hot. When did you get this hot? How did I miss that? Come here."
Climbing up on the bed, Steve straddled Tony's thighs. "Maybe that'll teach you to change your number on a guy," he murmured, running his thumb down Tony's dick. It was thick and dark, so hard it was almost painful-looking. For a second, just one, Steve was tempted to ignore the condom and just—but no, besotted didn't have to be the same as stupid. He'd already taken enough dumb risks not using a dam, and he should have known better.
Foil ripped without a struggle, and Tony let him roll the condom on with only a little roll of his hips. When Steve rubbed the lube to warm it, Tony smiled. "You're still the only person I know who does that."
"Good."
Little steps, one by one, doing things right kept his hands steady, gave him the strength not to just push Tony back down and fuck him. Back in college, he'd never really adapted to one night at a time, taking what he could get, and then Tony was gone, and that had been that. Steve wasn't going to make that mistake twice, but rushing wouldn't help anything.
As soon as it had lost its slight chill, Steve wrapped his hand around Tony's cock, smoothing it on thickly as he moved up Tony's hips. Cold air prickled his skin where lube brushed over it in a slick trail. One hand on Tony's cock and the other on his chest for balance, Steve lowered himself down. The burn was more than usual, a stretching pain that made Steve groan even when it made his cock throb. Once the first push was through it got easier, his body remembering that this was how to open up, and those were the muscles to relax, until he'd reached bottom and had to pause for breath.
Tony's hands massaged his hips, calluses scratching against Steve's skin. "You okay?" he asked quietly, rubbing circles with his thumbs.
A nod and a muttered yeah under his breath was the best Steve could do. Canting forward, he rocked his hips, letting the motion loosen him a little more, until the glide was smooth and easy. Good, so good, feeling Tony's cock again, spreading him out and filling him up. Not just any dick, not even just any prostitute, but Tony.
He rolled himself down and then back up, finding a rhythm and a speed that was perfect. Tony seemed to agree, cursing again, his hips rising occasionally to meet Steve's movements, awkward without any leverage. Sweat pooled in the hollow of Tony's stomach, little droplets running together until Steve wiped them away.
Muscles in his thighs ached, threatening to cramp the longer Steve rode him. His fists tightened in Tony's shirt as he leaned down for a kiss, messy and open-mouthed, lips sliding with every thrust. Somewhere, Steve had read that hookers didn't kiss, but Tony wasn't like the others, wasn't like anyone.
When Steve came, it was between one breath and the next, slamming into him and stealing every ounce of sense. He barely stopped himself from falling forward onto Tony, crying out as he spilled across his stomach.
With a ease of action that was so uniquely his own, Tony pushed Steve over onto his back, hips snapping as he fucked him through it. Steve opened his eyes just in time to see Tony's face twist, whole body going tense in orgasm.
They stayed like that, breathing, sweat chilling on their skin. Steve nuzzled kisses against Tony's neck, leaving bites in long trails that got him tired moans in answer. The condom discard wasn't the most graceful thing, but somehow they managed to move enough to get it tied off and put off to the side.
Soon enough, the stickiness got to be too much. Steve squirmed his way free, stumbling for the bathroom to get a washcloth. Turning on the hot water, Steve waited for it to warm up before running the cloth under it and wiping himself off, then rinsing it again for Tony.
In the mirror, Tony made one weak effort to drag himself upright. He ended up falling back again with a whumph. "I give up. Never moving again."
"Does that mean you'll stay the night?" Giving the cloth a squeeze to get out the excess water, Steve pitched it at Tony's chest. It missed and hit him in the shoulder. He flinched, but only slightly.
"Like you keep saying," Tony grinned, "it's your money."
Da-dun.
Da-dun.
Dadundadun. Dadundadun. Dundadundadadundadun—
Long years of practice allowed Tony to wake up just enough to recognize Pepper's ringtone and then snuggle back into the pillows without any hesitation. In this case, the pillow was actually a chest, and snuggling was wrapping himself around Steve like a python, but the principle held firm. Pepper would just call back again later or leave him an irate voicemail. It wasn't that often that Tony slept in, and he intended to enjoy it for all it was worth.
The sound of Pepper's imminent disapproval faded, then started again.
When his pillow moved, Tony tried to cling for a minute, but ultimately gave up and slid down into the mattress with a grunt. If Steve wanted to get a glass of water or pet a puppy or paint rainbows or whatever it was people like him got out of bed to do, so be it. Tony would be there waiting for him when he realized Tony was infinitely better than rainbows.
Steve didn't go far. At the very edge of consciousness, Tony heard him rummage around. It took two more renditions of Jaws before the bed dipped, and Steve's warm hip pressed against Tony's shoulder, jostling him.
"Tony," Steve hissed, in that weird, soft-but-loud voice people who weren't Pepper or Rhodey used when they were trying to wake someone. "Tony, your phone's ringing. It says—it says the name is 'the Boss'?"
Grunting his extreme lack of care, Tony rolled over and grabbed Steve's thigh, burying his face in it. No, not waking up. Pepper can't make me.
Another fade-out, and Jaws started up again. "Tony, I really think you should take this. They've been calling for a while."
"Ummf."
Another nudge as the theme started building to a crescendo, then something cold pressed against his ear. Beep.
"Good morning, Tony," Pepper said, voice a quiet purr that he was almost positive she'd learned from that hot Russian intern.
Instinct took control. Tony flailed upright, grabbing the phone out of Steve's hand. Only a quick save from Steve kept him from panicking himself right off the edge of the bed. "Pep—Pep, hi, I can explain—"
"Do you have any—any idea the kind of mess you left me with?" she growled, audibly through clenched teeth. "This was the single most important thing the Foundation has done this year, and you blew it off. We had an awards ceremony—do you remember that? Recognizing community efforts for local schools?"
Tony swallowed and sank back against the headboard. "Yeah, I remember—"
"You should. That was your idea. Yours. And Eddie Basil, the president of the Student Global Network? Gave a speech that you weren't there to introduce her for. The donation call got half of our anticipated numbers because Rhodey's good, but he's not you."
That made Tony wince. Donations were important—beyond important, they were everything to a 501c. He rubbed his face, dragging his hand across his five o'clock shadow and then back up to shade his eyes from reality. "I know—I know I was there to work, and I'm sorry—"
"Whatever it was, it had better have been important." Something heavy slammed onto a desk, and Tony was incredibly glad that Pepper hadn't chosen the video option. Bad enough to have fucked her over, he didn't want to see her face. Because her face wouldn't match her voice, her face would be hurt, and Tony would rather picture her spitting nails than hiding her face in her hands. "It had better be, because you promised, Tony. You promised that this would work, that the Foundation was important to you and you wouldn't screw this up."
"It was, Pep," Tony said softly. "It was important, and I'll explain to you this afternoon, I promise. And I'll make it up to you. I'll work overtime this week; you know I hate that. And I'll call Eddie and make arrangements—I'll take care of everything."
A deep breath, and that was likely as close to a sniffle as Pepper was going to get. "Please, Tony. Don't screw this up any more. If you're going to flake out, tell me now."
"I won't. I said I'll handle it, and I will."
"I hope so." The phone disconnected, drawing another wince from Tony. Usually Pepper could be counted on to stay polite, even if the face of unabashed Tonyness.
Letting the phone drop to the bed, Tony collapsed forward, resting his face in his hands. "So much trouble. So much trouble." He was going to have to work his ass off for a week to make up for this. When he'd ducked out with Steve, he hadn't even remembered about the speakers or the donations or any of it. He'd just been focused on not letting Steve know that essentially everything he knew about Tony was a damned lie.
Molehill into a mountain, that was how Tony Stark rolled.
"Are you okay?" Steve's big, warm hand rubbed between bare Tony's shoulders, up and down and in little circles, like he was a colicky baby. "What happened? Was that your... employer?" The word had strong overtones of drug dealer and a slight hint of boyfriend I don't approve of and will listen sympathetically as you complain about him over Ben & Jerry's at four AM.
Pimp. Pepper as his pimp, that was what Steve was trying to say, with some diplomacy and a lot of completely justified assumptions.
A giggle shook Tony's shoulders. Not a laugh or even the ever-manly chuckle, but an outright, panicked and overwhelmed giggle. He let himself collapse sideways into Steve's chest, convulsing. Oh god I'm in so much trouble.
Steve ran his fingers through Tony's hair. "Tony?"
"No—no not that. Just the person who handles my schedule." And everything else about his life. "I kind of blew off work last night. It's fine. I'll take care of it."
Under Tony's ear, Steve's chest jumped with a sharp sound of disapproval. His hand moved from Tony's hair back to his shoulders, rubbing again. "I didn't get you in trouble, did I?"
"Not you. I'm the one who completely spaced it. It's fine." Steve's chest was really amazing, broad and firm and so padded with muscle that Tony had to work to feel his ribs under it all. And warm. Back when they'd first met, Steve had always been cold, bundled up to his ears even at seventy degrees. Now he radiated heat like a furnace. Tony tucked his arm around Steve's waist and sank into him, letting the Pepper-induced tension melt away. "I wasn't lying when I said it was important."
"I'm important?" The pleasure in Steve's voice took care of the last bit of tension. "You haven't seen me for ten years. And I'm just—another customer."
Tony snorted. "Keep telling yourself that. You're important, and I'll handle the fallout." And there was going to be a lot of fallout. Tony might think keeping Steve from finding out he was a lying sack of shit was important. Pepper was probably going to have a different definition of the word. One that didn't involve having incredibly hot sex with incredibly hot blonds.
Silence, except Steve's heartbeat against his ear, and Tony could just imagine his blush without needing to look up and see it. "If you're in trouble...." Steve took a breath, jostling Tony a little. "If you're in trouble, you could come stay with me?"
For a second, Tony went still, immediately running down a checklist in his head. Not drunk, not high, awake... No, Steve really had just said that. "Did you just ask me to move in with you?"
"Yes?"
"...You're insane." Reluctantly, Tony peeled himself away from Steve's chest. Earnest was back in style on Steve's face. Jaw set, eyes sad, mouth just slightly soft with worry—if Tony were a better person, he'd have caved in like an undercooked soufflé. "You don't know me, Steve. I'm just some guy you used to pay for sex, and for all you know I could be a drug dealer or—or a murderer or some weird alien polymorph out for your DNA—thanks for that, by the way."
Muscles around Steve's jaw tightened. "I'm not an idiot, Tony. I know all of that."
Okay, there went that theory. "Then why would you ask me to live with you?"
"Because I like you." Tony opened his mouth, just in time to have Steve's palm press against it, just a little sticky with sweat and residues that needed more than a wet rag to get rid of. "Hush for a second and let me finish. I like what I know about you. I know that you're good company, and you're smart and good with mechanics, and you're a good guy who consistently undercharged me—shut up, I know prostitutes cost more than fifty dollars, especially for the stuff we did. And I know that unless you've changed more than I think, you're still too damned stubborn to accept help if I don't force it on you, so I'm forcing it. If you're still hooking ten years later, it's probably not because you choose to, and if you're in trouble, I want to help." Cautiously, he lifted his hand. "Okay, now you can talk."
"You're still insane—" Steve's face closed in, and his mouth opened. Tony lifted a finger in the air, shaking it. "Ah-ah-ah, no, my turn. Remember you said I could talk."
Still looking unhappy, Steve nodded. "I did."
The morning sunlight did something to his eyes, turning them from their usually plain blue to something clear and liquid and just damned pretty. Tony locked on to them, putting on his I'm A Serious CEO Saying Serious Things Face. It didn't work on anyone else, but Steve hadn't had enough exposure to develop an immunity, so there might be a chance. "I appreciate the offer. Really. But it's not needed."
"Are you sure?"
You could tell him the truth, an insidious little snake-like voice whispered in Tony's head. He was pretty sure it might be his conscience, which was weird, because if being the CEO of a multinational couldn't kill the damned thing, he didn't know what could. Tell him everything. He'll forgive you for lying back when you were a dumb kid, but you're an adult now.
Yeah, like doing the right thing ever helped. "I'm sure, Steve. Really, one hundred percent positive, absolutely and without a doubt sure. But if I do ever need help, I'll let you know."
"Promise?" The unhappiness lifted, just a little, but Steve still looked like he wanted to wrap Tony up in cotton. Which was fine, really; Tony had nothing against cotton. Just not then.
"I promise." Tony dragged his index finger over his heart. "And there's always those fifties from you, right?"
Steve finally smiled. "Right."
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four