"You're so gorgeous like this," Tony hummed, pushing Steve's sweaty hair back from his forehead with one hand.
Steve giggled in response, high as a kite after over an hour of intense edging followed by what seemed like at least four orgasms. His chest was still a mess of come from both of them, lube drying on his thighs.
"You want a shower first or food?" Tony asked gently, giving the words time to penetrate Steve's hazy headspace.
"Alright." Tony kissed him on the cheek, then on the mouth, hard, then grabbed a few wet wipes from their bedside table and wiped Steve down, cleaning up the worst of it. He rose to head for the kitchen, but something about the way Steve's eyes followed him made him pause. Usually he'd order something or heat up leftovers from the freezer so he could be back at Steve's side as fast as possible, but he had good fresh ingredients in the fridge and a craving for pasta. "Will you come to the kitchen with me?"
Steve blinked then nodded. Tony held out a hand and helped Steve to his feet. He wobbled a bit, and Tony couldn't help but grin at the effect he had on a supersoldier. There was something deeply, viscerally satisfying about bringing the serum to its knees. Tony hooked his arm around Steve's waist, kissed the jut of his shoulder and led him into the kitchen.
Instead of seating him in a chair, Tony guided Steve to the floor, his back against the kitchen island, long legs kicked out in front of him. Tony adjusted his collar and kissed Steve again. "You okay here? Not too cold?"
Steve shook his head. "I'm good," he slurred.
"Okay, perfect. You're perfect. I'm going to cook and you're going to stay right here and be beautiful, alright?"
"Yes, Tony." Steve gazed up at him with wild, unguarded affection, and Tony's heart skipped and stuttered. What on earth had he done to deserve this?
"Good boy. I love you."
Steve beamed. "Love you…"
Tony rose again and started to pull out ingredients. Before long, he had onions and garlic sizzling in a pan and a pot of pasta water boiling. He'd found some cheesecake in the freezer and left it on the counter to thaw while he started to chop tomatoes.
Steve stayed exactly where Tony had left him, his eyes following his dance around the kitchen, soft and hooded, arms limp at his sides. Tony finished with the tomato and picked up a cube then leaned down and held it out to Steve. Steve opened his mouth and leaned forward, his eyes closing as Tony dropped the food on his tongue. "Are they good?" Tony asked.
Steve nodded. "Very good."
"Thank you." Tony set them aside and started on carrots. He continued to offer Steve little tastes of each ingredient. A bite of carrot, a piece of fresh mozzarella laid out on his tongue. When the sauce had simmered, Tony dipped a finger in then slipped it between Steve's lips, humming with pleasure at the soft heat of Steve's mouth as he sucked it clean. Tony crouched down at his side. "How are you feeling?"
"Incredible." Steve's hand landed on Tony's knee and he stroked up to his thigh, squeezing gently.
"Dinner's almost ready."
"Thank you, Tony."
Tony finished up the last of the cooking then filled a big dish with enough pasta, salad and bread for both of them. He set it on the table then brought Steve over and sat him down at his side. Steve slumped against him, a solid warm weight against Tony's leg, and blinked up at him with absolute trust and love. Tony petted over his cheek and down to cup his jaw. He bent down and kissed Steve hard enough to make him shiver then started in on the food.
He took a few bites himself then scooped up a forkful of pasta and offered it to Steve, curled at his feet. Steve opened his mouth obediently and Tony slid the food in. Steve's eyes flickered shut and he hummed happily. "Good?" Tony asked.
"Yes, Tony. You're such a good cook." Steve's words were still heavy with subspace. It made Tony's nerves dance, something hot flush through his veins, to see how far down, how open and trusting Steve was with him. There was nothing more beautiful than Steve at his feet, mouth patiently open.
Tony worked through the rest of the plate, feeding Steve most of it, sometimes with his fork, sometimes with his fingers, to feel the little darts of his hot wet tongue as it lapped up the pasta sauce or the salad dressing. It was satisfying in a deep, undefinable way to feed Steve. Tony wanted to be the one providing for him in every way, and every bite he fed him sent a low thrum of gratification through his body.
When the meal was done, Tony started the bathtub filling with hot water and bubbles while he filled the dishwasher, then stripped down and settled both of them in the tub, jacuzzi jets on high. He had two glasses of wine and the cheesecake as well, and as they soaked away the sweat and come and lube, he fed bites of cake to Steve, leaning in to lick the sweet chocolate sauce off his lips each time.
Steve's eyes were soft and half closed, a smile dancing across his lips whenever he blinked them open again. He was limp in Tony's arms, fingers curled gently around Tony's hip, and everytime the fork was touched to his bottom lip he opened his mouth and obediently sucked the cake off it, tipping his chin up for a kiss after. He was so easy and open and giving, and he belonged to Tony. There was nothing as satisfying as taking care of his Steve, making him happy, being what he needed.
Tony brushed the pad of his thumb over Steve's cheek. "How do you feel, sweetheart?"
Steve blinked at him, languid, like a happy cat, and grinned. "Perfect."