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It’s weird, the whole—being in a relationship thing.
Tony’d kind of gotten the hang of it with Pepper, but as it turned out, they hadn’t been on the same page life-goals-wise. She understood and admired the whole need-to-fight-the-forces-of-evil thing, but she didn’t want to make that the focus of her life, and Tony seems to be inextricably linked to it. So, with a lot of tears on both sides, they had ended things between them.
After a six month period in which they’d worked on opposite sides of the country and only spoken when strictly necessary for business, the excruciating pain of the split had faded somewhat and they’d gotten back to something vaguely resembling their previous relationship, but better, deeper.
Tony must have a weird thing for dating his friends because here he is with Steve Rogers painting a swathe of heat up his right side just a handful of months later. They’re on their fourth date in less than three weeks and they’ve both been bending over backwards rearranging their schedules to make the dates possible.
They haven’t had to re-calibrate from a boss-employee relationship, which is a big step up from last time, and Tony’s nuts about Steve, just—he gets honest to god butterflies when Steve smiles at him and he’s cut down hours in the workshop so he can see Steve more and—seriously, it’s like being in grade school again.
Anyway, being at the beginning of the whole process is strange, especially because he can’t help but compare it to the way it had been with Pepper. Even stranger: he’s Steve’s first relationship in the 21st century. What if Steve is comparing him to Peggy?
What the hell had their relationship been like anyway, in the middle of the second World War? They’ve been taking it pretty slow so far, but that doesn’t mean Steve and Peggy had. Jesus, it’s weird thinking about Aunt Peggy having a sex-life. It’s weird thinking about his boyfriend having dated her. The word boyfriend is weird.
“Tony,” Steve says, voice low, and he jolts out of his thoughts, shaking his head to clear them. He snaps back to the here and now and discovers Steve’s hand on his knee, his face dipped down close so they’re just a few inches apart.
“Huh?” he says and winces. He clears his throat. “I mean, yeah. Steve. Hi. What’s up? No go on the movie?”
“No, it’s fine,” Steve says, something like nerves flitting across his features. Then he confesses, “I’m not really paying attention.”
Tony huffs a laugh, just about swallows his tongue when Steve leans in a little further, his long eyelashes dipping as he looks at Tony’s mouth.
“I was wondering if maybe I could kiss you,” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” Tony breathes, “yeah, god, Steve, you really don’t have to—”
Steve cuts him off with his mouth and Tony sinks into the couch back, Steve following along with him, the pressure of his lips firm and soft and steady.
Steve’s been tentative so far, leaving it up to Tony to start things. Apparently tonight is different, and a little zing of arousal makes Tony’s dick twitch. He is all about this.
“Sorry,” Steve mumbles into Tony’s mouth, one huge hand trailing from Tony’s waist up over his ribcage, hot through his t-shirt.
“Sorry,” Tony echoes, brain too scattered to understand at first. “Sorry?” He pushes Steve back, hands around the enormous muscles of his shoulders. Steve’s mouth is slowly reddening and Tony can’t look away from the plush curve of his lower lip. “Why sorry? What sorry?”
Steve ducks his head, bashful, like a character out of a black and white movie—because he is, Christ—and says, “For interrupting the movie. I’m sure—” He glances over his shoulder and then a blush spills across his cheeks. “Uh. What were we watching again?”
Tony’s delighted. “Are you telling me you have no idea what we were watching? None. Whatsoever. You were so distracted sitting next to me that you can’t even guess?”
Steve scratches at his forehead and squints at the TV. “Um. It had something to do with robots, didn’t it?”
“You,” Tony says, grabbing hold of his shirt and dragging him close again, “are going to be good for my ego.”
Steve stares at him. “It doesn’t fit in the Tower as it is.”
“How dare you,” Tony squawks and Steve’s neutral expression cracks into laughter. Tony loves seeing him laugh, Steve doesn’t do it often enough, but he pretends to be offended the best he can, fighting back when Steve leans in again, trying to kiss him. “Oh, no you don’t, Rogers.”
“You built a monument to yourself,” Steve says, grinning into the corner of Tony’s mouth because Tony never had a chance of holding him back.
“Well if I didn’t, nobody else would.”
Steve kisses him deeply, cupping Tony’s jaw in the palms of his hands. Tony sighs through his nose, enjoying the way Steve’s tongue plies at his.
God, making out with Steve is fun.
Then Steve shifts one hand to curl around the back of Tony’s neck, drawing him that much closer, and Tony makes a strangled noise, arousal lurching through him like a hot, molten wave, even as tingles spread down his arms and down to the base of his spine. Oh, god.
Steve pulls back slightly. “Tony?”
Fingers gripping Steve’s shirt tight, he chokes, “No, yep, I’m good I’m fine—”
Steve moves his fingers inadvertently, a light stroke across the nape of Tony’s neck and he bites back a cry, arching into Steve’s hold.
This time, Steve freezes completely.
“Oh my god,” Tony groans, and squirms because there’s suddenly a hell of a lot less room in his pants.
“Tony, are you okay?” Steve asks, and he nods sharply.
“I am sooo so okay.”
“You sure?” Steve says, and okay, maybe the dubious tone is warranted because Tony’s still floating on a cloud of tingly endorphins and maybe has melted into the couch like a puddle of genius, philanthropist, billionaire.
“Super sure,” he says. “So, I may have a sensitive neck?”
“You don’t say,” Steve replies, dry as the Afghanistan desert.
“Promise you it feels spectacular though,” Tony says and crosses his finger over his heart. He doesn’t even know if Steve will get that, but whatever.
“So if I…” Steve drags the tip of a finger very lightly from Tony’s hairline to the knob of bone at the base of his neck and he arches, mouth falling helplessly open. “Huh,” Steve says, and his eyes glint in the dark.
“Can you just do that forever,” Tony asks, and he might be slurring a little, his brains are starting to scramble.
“I’m not opposed,” Steve murmurs, and his fingers do a slow swirl in the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck. Sensation arches over Tony’s skull, wriggling down his spine and he bites down on his lip to muffle a whimper. Jesusgod it’s been a long time since somebody touched him like this.
After a minute, it fades and he drags open eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed. Steve is leaning over him, smiling with a warmth that makes Tony’s stomach do a funny flip.
“Sorry, I’m hogging the make out perks, I can—”
“No, this is great,” Steve says and Tony feels an embarrassed heat creep up the back of his neck.
“Yeah?”
Steve’s eyes crinkle. “Oh yeah.” Then he kisses Tony, chaste and sweet. “Do you trust me?”
“Last week I shut off the suit mid-air because you said you had a plan, are you seriously asking me that?”
“This is different,” Steve murmurs, and then his lips brush Tony’s throat and whatever Tony might have said gets stuck in his throat.
“Steve,” he breathes, feeling the impending mental shut down as Steve moves closer to the back of his neck, “Steve. If you— I’m gonna be useless.” He trails off on a groan at the bright sensation of nails drawing lightly across his skin.
Steve grins and Tony shivers at the feel of his teeth against the tender spot under his ear.
“Oh god, you’re going to be the death of me,” Tony says and then sucks in a sharp breath as Steve rolls his tongue. Shit—shit that feels so good.
Lights burst behind his eyelids and he whines, all but gasping for breath as Steve sucks and then glides his tongue over the bright points of pain from his teeth. Tony grips his shirt, body rolling against the weight Steve is using to hold him against the couch. Pleasure fizzes in his brain like it’s filled with carbonation, Steve’s mouth hot and wet and perfect.
To his astonishment, Steve presses the heel of his hand against his dick. He gurgles, scrabbling at Steve’s shoulders, and then he’s coming in his goddamn pants, pleasure rippling through him in waves.
When something other than how insanely good he feels starts to filter in, Tony finds Steve tenderly kissing his temple, holding him in the crook of his arm against the side of his body. “Oh my god,” Tony croaks and Steve grins like it’s the best compliment he’s ever received.
“Did you—”
“In my pants you asshole, I haven’t done that in—years.”
“Sorry,” Steve says, but it’s a bald-faced lie. “You look really good like that. I couldn’t help myself.”
Tony slumps against him, still tingling pleasantly all over. “You can help yourself any time.”
Later, he’ll have to repay the favor.