Work Text:
Tony sucked in a slow breath, wakefulness seeping into his senses. He shifted a little, and found the sheets were cool signaling he was alone in the bed. Groaning a little in disappointment, he stretched out before resetting, confirming his suspicions of Steve being up and gone already.
“Oh, darn.”
Or maybe he wasn’t gone. Upon hearing the quiet curse, Tony cracked open his eyes and glanced to the end of the bed. “Morning, babe,” he greeted softly.
“Morning,” Steve returned; as happy as the word sounded, there was a slight disappointment to his expression.
Tony blinked a couple times trying to make sense of the conflicting signals, then he noticed it. Steve was sitting in the armchair across from the end of the bed, his fingers were smudged black, and a large sketchpad was propped up against his crossed legs.
“You drawin’ me?” He questioned sleepily, a smile tugging at his mouth.
“I was, it's fine though,” Steve said with a shrug and moved to set the pad down.
“No, no, please continue. ’M in no rush to go anywhere,” Tony yawned around the end of the sentence and closed his eyes, settling back into the bed as close to how he had been laying as he could. “Take your time.”
He heard Steve make a happy humming sound and then the soft scrap of charcoal against paper started up.
Tony listened and relaxed, enjoying the calmness of the morning quiet. His relationship with Steve had blossomed into a wonderfully wholesome thing. The first time in his lab and the walk in the park after had been the first of many for them.
Months later and things had only gotten better. Tony hadn't been in a steady relationship for quite some time before this, and he’d forgotten how nice it could be to have someone at his side. Going on real dates, falling into little traditions together—walks in Central Park that ended with them laying under one of the secluded bridges watching the trees and birds, or sitting on one of Steve’s old rooftops in Brooklyn eating classic New York street food. Even the candid personal moments caught by paparazzi that wound up on tabloids were weirdly endearing in a way. He sighed, deeply content with thoughts of his partner and what they were steadily building.
He had no clue how long he was dozing there, drifting in and out of fragmented hazy dreams. It was only when he heard Steve shifting and muttering that he once again opened his eyes a sliver, just enough to see the other man but not enough to draw his attention. Steve had moved the chair a little closer, and was biting his lip softly as we worked.
“God, Tony,” he murmured, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Steve was looking at him with a sharp intensity, eyes scanning him and drifting back to his pad, repeating the process slowly.
The looks Steve was giving his prone form made a small shiver snake over Tony’s skin. He closed his eyes as goosebumps rose on his arms and realized for the first time how bare he was. They hadn’t had sex last night—actually hadn't in over a week—a combination of meetings, and missions making their personal alone time sparse. Still, when Tony had crawled into bed last night he had foregone clothes, hoping that Steve would be back from DC at some point that night like originally scheduled.
He vaguely remembered waking when Steve had come to bed. The sharp jolt to alertness as the other man's hot body had wrapped around him, the murmurs of 'go back to sleep', and soft kisses to his shoulder. When Steve's arms had encircled him, his entire body molding to Tony's, he was glad he'd made the call to sleep nude. It was nearly impossible to sleep with anything on when Steve was in his bed, the other man was a furnace (that and it was nearly a crime to not feel the other man's skin pressed loving to his own). Sheets and a single thin blanket were all he kept on his bed nowadays—both of which Tony now realized were tangled around his legs and caught low across his hips and thighs.
Cracking open one eye, he watched Steve again, and the intensity of his gaze took on a whole new meaning. Steve watching him, eyes slowly racking down his body even while his hand still moved over the sketchpad. Bright baby blues lingering around his hips, his groin—passion that Steve was not only showing with a look but was committing to physical form on paper.
Tony swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly feeling dry as he tried not to squirm under the heated look. He let his eyes slide shut again focusing on his breaths and trying to calm them. He felt his body heating, mind wandering to what Steve was seeing, to what he was drawing. Tony could feel himself flushing, felt the hotness of it creeping down his chest. Steve made another small sound, a tiny groan, and Tony bit his cheek to keep from matching it with a sound of his own.
He knew he was getting hard. Felt his member twitch against his leg, the sensitive head catching ever so slightly against the hair across his thigh in a tickle of pleasure as he grew and plumped under Steve's gaze. He tightened his hands against the sheets, fingers clutching at the soft fabric in an effort not to touch himself. It was a surprisingly difficult task, the heat of his own body and the knowledge Steve was watching him compounded together into a blood-boiling need. It had him fully erect now, and he could feel it lying heavy against his hip.
"Fuck, Tony ," Steve groaned and there was a catch to his breath.
It made Tony’s dick throb and he shivered as the wetness of precum dribbled onto his skin. It all felt like a horrible cock tease, and simultaneously, one of the most intimate moments he'd ever had with a partner.
He forced himself to remain still, to let Steve see him this way, to commit whatever he wanted to memory on his sketchpad. God, Tony wanted to see what his partner was drawing, to see himself through Steve's eyes. Steve willingly showed Tony his sketches now and every time the soldier presented him with one, it made Tony’s knees weak and his heart swell. There was always a softness to his art, a fragility that Tony never saw when he looked at himself—all he saw was bravado, and rough edges, and past mistakes. Not Steve. He saw past that to the gooey sweet core of who he was, a part of himself that Tony was still trying to connect with and not feel weakness from.
He was so focused on his own self restraint and reflection that Tony didn’t notice the bed dipping, and was unaware of Steve closing in on him until a hand settled on the side of his face. Tony startled at the touch, eyes snapping open to meet Steve's. The other man was hovering over him, inches away, the blue of his eyes electric in color and eclipsed by deep pools of black.
"You're fucking gorgeous," he whispered and stole Tony's mouth in a hard kiss.
Tony groaned, his hands instantly on his lover's body. Tangling in the soft strands of his hair, hips lifting desperate for contact. He shuddered, mouth dropping away from Steve's as he gave a breathy moan. Steve was wearing slick track pants, the soft material delicious friction against his weeping cock but Christ, he wanted more than that. Hands sliding down Steve's sides, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled them down.
"Yes," Steve hissed, sitting up and quickly removing them fully.
Then his hands were back on Tony's body, wide palms and skilled fingers sweeping up his sides. Tony looked down at himself and wanted to sob. Dark smudges were being painted over his skin by the charcoal lingering on Steve's fingers. It was sexual in a way he couldn't describe and he loved it. Seeing the patterns on his skin, the ghosts of his partner's hands, a map of his touch.
"Steve," he groaned, nearly pleading. He was answered by the soldier's mouth finding his again, large hands touching across his shoulders, neck, settling to hold his face and keep him locked in the hot wicked kiss.
Tony met the passion with his own, the build-up of sexual tension making the kiss sloppy but so fucking good . He rolled his hips up, dick gliding along next to Steve's. It was slick and smooth, precum flowing amply between their bodies from them both.
" Gorgeous, doll, you're—Christ," Steve's words were rushed, jumbled, spoken straight into his mouth and Tony just moaned, eating them up.
Stever continued to kiss him, his elbows braced on the bed, hands never leaving Tony's face. His strong hips rocking down possessively against Tony's body, holding him down, pinning him in place with his chiseled frame. It made Tony feel hot and feral, completely lost in the rut of it, rushed and messy, all of Steve's strength being exerted onto him in sexual fury. Tony planted his feet firmly against the mattress, pushing back against his partner, bracing himself to take the powerful strokes. His hands clawed down Steve's back—leaving red lines that would disappear far too quickly for either of their liking—to grip hard at the shifting muscle of his ass.
The sound this brought from Steve could be described as nothing but primal—deep, rumbling, and loud—shooting straight down into Tony's core as the soldier bit at his lip and pressed against him harder. Tony was done for with that sound. The time since they had done this last, the ferocity Steve was laying into him with—fuck, Steve almost never let go in bed. Never let his real strength bleed through into his touches, but Tony loved it when he did. He was starting to love a lot of things about this man. Steve was so soft, but so strong all at once, power controlled with pinpoint precision. Like now, like his hands moving up tugging Tony's hair pulling his head back and baring his throat, teeth sinking into the skin there and undoubtedly leaving a deep bruise, but with just enough restraint not to break skin.
"Oh—god!" Tony shouted and came, blunt nails cutting into the smooth flesh of Steve's ass. His thighs trembled around his lover's hips with the rugged force of his climax.
" Oh ," Steve grunted right next to his ear, coming with a few more harsh thrusts.
It made Tony whine—feeling the hot ample slick sliding between them, the feeling of Steve's ass shifting in his hands, the muscles clenching as he rode out his orgasm. The soldier was panting against his ear like a freight train and Tony shivered at the moist heat of it.
"That was a lot hotter than I was expecting," Tony admitted, after several moments of stillness.
Steve heaved himself up brushing his charcoal-stained fingers across his partner's sweaty forehead. "Uh, sorry?" Steve responded, with a shy smile.
"Don't be, I love it when you let loose," Tony sighed and leaned up to kiss the corner of Steve's mouth.
"You try having restraint after staring at your naked boyfriend for over an hour—and then watching them get hard!"
Tony laughed openly and with genuine mirth. "Point taken," he grinned and sat up, making Steve move off him. "Do I get to see it?"
Humming, Steve got up and went to retrieve the sketchpad he'd abandoned in the chair. While he did, Tony tugged up a corner of the sheets and wiped his belly as clean as he could.
"I can get a towel," Steve chided, handing him the pad.
"Eh," Tony said dismissively and took the offering, trading Steve the dirty sheet instead.
His partner frowned at it, pulling the piece of linen completely off the bed and cleaning himself with an unspoiled section of it. "Well?" Steve asked, nervousness in his tone as he climbed back onto the bed.
Grinning with anticipation, Tony turned his attention to the drawing he had been presented with. God, it was stunning. Him, laid out across the bed, practically spread eagle, head lazily listed to one side, eyes closed and mouth soft, lips barely parted. His hair was messy, tufts stuck up against the pillow, a few loose curls falling across his forehead. To his credit, Steve had shown enough restraint not to draw him erect, or maybe he had already finished that part of the drawing by the time Tony had gotten aroused—either way, the soft plumpness of his member lying against his thigh looked exceptionally erotic and vulnerable all at once. It wasn't just his body either. No detail was spared in the subtle folds of the bedding, the wrinkles in the pillowcase, the light and design of the arc.
"It's beautiful," Tony murmured. "You always see me in ways I never see myself."
"That's because you're too hard on yourself," Steve countered without hesitation.
The words made Tony sigh and briefly shut his eyes. It really was far too easy to fall for this man. Turning, he carefully set the drawing on the ground and turned back to Steve. He moved in close, tucking one arm against his side the other falling across the taller man's waist.
"You need to shower," Steve said softly.
Tony hummed, closing his eyes and relaxing into the feeling of Steve's fingers smoothing over his skin. They were brushing softly but with subtle purpose as they swept over him. Smiling, Tony tucked his face more snugly against Steve's chest. He knew exactly what the other man was doing—marking him intentionally with his stained fingers.
"Later," he sighed and shifted so more of his back was exposed to Steve. His lover took the invitation, his hand dancing across the newly exposed smudge-free skin. "Take your time, I'm in no hurry."