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Sunday Morning Praises

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"Pretty thing," Steve murmured, one big, warm hand cradling the underside of Tony's jaw. "Look at you, huh?" he hummed, quiet, dragged his thumb against Tony's swollen, plush, come-stained lips. Tony shuddered, all the way down to his feet, toes curling in the soft carpet beneath them. "See, you can be good when you put your mind to it," Steve teased, tapping Tony's mustache, the crinkling of his eyes softening the hard lines of his stern military jaw and cut. "And you are being my very—" Steve leaned forward so he could steal a kiss, "—good—" and another, "—boy," he finished, pulling back so he could lick at a drop of his own come on his mouth.

Tony moaned, felt his head loll even heavier into Steve's sure, strong grip. Praise had always been one of the things guaranteed to send him down to that soft, hazy space, but these soft-spoken words from Steve never— never failed to bring goosebumps to his skin, to cause heat to pool in his cheeks, to make hot, dizzy pleasure swirl in his belly and take up residence in his gnarled, greedy heart. It never failed to surprise him, either — Tony had certainly never been so presumptuous as to lower himself into Steve's lap and demand the man praise him or anything like that. Steve had just… noticed, suddenly curled a hand in Tony's hair one evening and pulled, pressed a Good boy into Tony's skin with his lips, and that was the most they'd ever spoken of it.

Praise from Steve had been... stilted, at first, Steve torn between wanting to keep his hard demeanor intact and give in to this softer side, and so Tony had moved to take the reins back — whispered dirty filthy things in Steve's ear, put his tie in Steve's hands to choke him with, swallowed Steve down to the root and tried to make himself gag on the girth of it. But Steve always slowed the tempo down during those times, made his touch gentle, careful, like Tony was something precious and loved, and pressed tender, soft and doting kisses to the edge of his brow and called him Sweet thing, you're so good, Tony, aren't you?

There was a gasp, loud in the quiet of their bedroom, and Tony flushed to realize it was him, tipped his chin towards the ground in a sudden burst of shyness.

"Come on now, Stark," Steve said lightly, dragging his fingers through the curl of Tony's hair. "Y'gonna hide that pretty face from me?" His foot shifted, sole sliding across the carpet, and Tony's eyes tracked the movement of his thigh, thick and golden-dusted and oh-so-mouthwateringly tempting as Steve spread his legs, drawing attention to the heavy, spit-slick cock between them, already thickening and filling up with blood again. "I bet I know what you need," he continued, twirling his fingers just so, so that they caught on the thick strands. Tony could feel his breath quicken, his heart begin to pound inside his chest. "You need to suck me, baby, don't you?" Steve asked, his lips curling into a kind smile, the blue of his eyes darkening against his lust-blown pupils, and God, oh God yes, that's exactly what Tony needed.

"Yes," Tony moaned aloud, felt his jaw slacken and his head tip back as he waited for Steve to slip his fat, throbbing cock between Tony's lips again.

"Good boy," Steve praised, breathless almost, like he had been waiting for that simple acquiescence from Tony. He fed his cockhead into the warmth of Tony's mouth, slid one large, calloused hand tenderly down the side of Tony's face. Tony shuddered, felt it all the way in his cock, the hot jerk of it in his balls, and groaned around the crown of Steve's dick, felt the sweet salty taste of him on his tongue. Steve's thumb dug in hard, right in the knottiest part of his trapezius, and Tony whined softly, felt his neck and jaw relax even more. "You open up so good for me," Steve sighed, rocking his hips gently, and Tony couldn't help but stick his tongue out even further in an attempt to draw Steve further in. Steve huffed a laugh at the motion, tightened the grip of that big mitt of his in Tony's hair. "You love to suck me so much," he said then, petting lightly at Tony's face. "Yer' a big talker, Stark, but I pull my dick out and you fall all over yourself to stuff that chatterbox a' yours."

Tony made another noise, something soft and high and wanting, and then he was sliding forward, softening his jaw and huffing through his nose as Steve's cock slid further into his mouth and down the back of his throat. Tony moaned, felt the tremor of it on his tongue, had to put his hands on Steve's knees to steady himself. It was true, all of it. As much as he loved to talk, he loved sucking Steve's cock more; he, couldn't help himself, really. Everything about it — from the smell and taste of him, to the way he felt in Tony's mouth, filled him to choking, sometimes, to the way Steve hardly ever let himself go, was always so, so gentle and careful with how the two of them made— made love.

Even the thought of it made Tony flush.

"What a looker," Steve murmured, almost awe-struck, curling his big, warm hands to Tony's jaw. "S'that pretty pink all for me?" Tony gave another soft, choked-off moan, breathy despite the way Steve's cock filled his throat, and couldn't help the way his skin colored and darkened under the scrutiny of one Steve Rogers. "Should I get you a gag to match that plug a' yours?" Steve asked, clearly delighted at the thought, and Tony felt his neck heat, whined as Steve pulled him further forward on his cock. "Or maybe— maybe you'd like a little piece of leather—" Steve's fingers trailed down, grazing the edge of the flush on his throat, right above his collarbone, "—maybe you'd like something with the name 'Steve Rogers' on it, instead of the American flag?" Steve asked in a hush, his own cheeks suddenly swirling with a pink of their own, something soft and self-conscious in his face, his gaze firmly locked on that section of skin on Tony's neck.

Tony's eyes filled with tears, and he had to fight back a sudden ache in his throat that had nothing to do with the cock in it. Yes, he tried to say with every atom of his body, huffing in little breaths through his nose as he tried to take in the rest of Steve, tried to make him understand that that was all he'd ever wanted. Steve's other hand tightened in his hair, and Tony made a broken noise, high in the back of his throat.

Steve's thumb caressed the edge of Tony's clavicle. "I know I'm not— not supposed to bring this stuff up right now," he admitted, pulling a grimace. His other hand was petting Tony's hair, curling through each individual strand and lighting up all of Tony's nerves. "I know we're supposed to talk about it outside of— of this, but—" Steve's eyes fluttered shut, the tendons in his throat working as Steve tried to gather up the courage to continue. "I want something for, for just the two of us. I—I would like for you to have a piece of me," Steve whispered, his big beautiful gold lashes fluttering against those gigantic and sharp cheekbones. "Something that makes you mine."

One, two, three tears squeezed themselves from Tony's aching eyeballs, cool against his hot and blushing cheeks, and Tony hurriedly sniffed at the sudden wetness in his nose and throat, jerked himself forward so that his lips were pressed to the swell of Steve's sac. His throat spasmed around the girth of Steve, the hot and pulsing cock in his ragged throat and drooling mouth, and Tony's eyes slid shut against the well of emotion he couldn't help but submerge himself in. I'm yours, I'm already yours, Tony tried to say with his worshipping mouth, with his reverent hands and the curve of his submissive neck and his hot, aching, dripping cock. I want to be yours, Tony thought fervently, let the slick sounds of their— of their lovemaking overtake the room, let himself moan and cry and gag around Steve until Steve spilled down his throat and lips once again.

"I want—" Tony started hoarsely, low and sex-rough and jaggedly overused. "I want that," he whispered feverishly, blinked his heavy, tear-clumped lashes up at Steve. "Oh, oh darling, please, I— I want that s-so m-m-uch." God, it was embarrassing how badly he wanted it, wanted something he could wear when they— when they scened, maybe even all the time, something he could wear under his clothes and could touch when he wanted to think of Steve and how he thoroughly owned him—

"Really?" Steve asked, suddenly shy, or possibly embarrassed, another cherry blossom flush painting itself across his cheeks. "That's— that's something you want?"

"Darling," Tony croaked, ducking his head so he could rub the side of his face against Steve's overwarm thigh, "Darling, I— I have never wanted anything more."

Steve snorted, ran his fingers through Tony's hair once again. Tony's eyes fluttered shut at the soothing motion. "Now I know you're tellin' tales, mister," Steve teased gently, digging his fingers into Tony's scalp and scratching. "But I can see someone here is still pretty needy." Tony flushed, deeply, even as he felt his cock jerk and slap wetly against Steve's leg. Steve's hands slid down, the both of them, settled right above his waist, and Tony felt a zing of hot humiliation at how Steve's huge and beautiful hands almost encircled him completely. Steve lifted him, and the feeling prickled even sharper at how easily Steve could move him, how hot and—and—and embarrassing it was, that Steve could just pick him up and throw him on his lap like a child, how he could situate Tony exactly how he wanted and all Tony could do was sit there and take it.

Tony gasped, a shiver twisting down his spine, when one of Steve's palms slid down his hip, up the back of his thigh to cup under the globe of his ass. "Steve—" he choked out, and Steve's grin sharpened, his eyes slitting like a cat's as he massaged the meat of his ass. His other hand splayed across Tony's groin, fingers framing the obscene jut of his cock, hot and needy and dripping with his desire, and the tight swell of his balls practically vibrating with their need to come. "Steve—" Tony tried again.

"I've got you, fella," Steve murmured, fingers closing around Tony's cock and jerking, two of his fingers slipping down to slip down the sensitive sac. Tony cried out, shoving his fist in his mouth. He never touched Tony as roughly as he seemed to touch his own cock; he always touched Tony so gently, whether it was on his cock or his hips or even the Iron Man armor, as tough as that was. Steve jerked him slowly, fingers slipping messily under and over the head, his hand getting slick and sticky from the evidence of Tony's need. When he rubbed against the circumcision scar on Tony's shaft, another moan burst from his lips and Tony fell forward, tucking his head into Steve's neck and shivering under the attention. Tony spread his knees wide, bracketing Steve's hips, and panted harshly into Steve's skin, grinding and rolling his hips into Steve's even, sure grip.

"Steve—" Tony gasped. "Darling—"

"What a good boy," Steve murmured, speeding up his strokes. Tony could hear the wet, slapping sound of Steve jerking him off, loud and booming in his ears, and couldn't help the sharp breath he let out, turned his head to one side to hide the heating of his cheeks again in Steve's warm skin. "You're so good, Tony," Steve continued, unaware or perhaps unheeding of Tony's hot embarrassment. "Look at you, baby. Gave me one of the sweetest french baths I've ever had and then let me throw you around like a caveman."

"Darling, you know I like it when you throw me around," Tony teased, shuddering when Steve stroked his dick just right, dug his fingers into the thick meat of his back; Steve sped his pace up again. "O-oh— Steve—"

"You've got the sweetest mouth," Steve grunted, fist flying over Tony's cock. "I don't know what I like better — feeling it around my cock or hearing you say my name—"

A yell burst out of Tony then, suspiciously high and wet, and he threw his hands in Steve's criminally short cut so he had something to hold onto as he shuddered through his release, spattering come all over Steve's fist and abs and cock. "Oh, oh, oh—" he sobbed, his hips stuttering and trying to eke out the last vestiges of pleasure from his sweat-soaked, tired body.

"So good," Steve murmured, pet across Tony's face with his other hand, careful not to get any more mess on his face. It twisted something in Tony's chest to feel it, that kind consideration and regard. "You're so good to me."

Tony whined, tried to hide his face in Steve's hand, felt acutely how the bristles of his beard scratched against Steve's palm. "Steve—" he tried then, breath hitching.

"You need this," Steve said simply, turning Tony's face back towards him so they could share a sweet, simple kiss. "You like it when I'm soft with you," he continued, heedless of the way Tony's cheeks were blushing red again. "You want me to tell you how good you are."

"Come now, darling, t-that's hardly true—" Tony stuttered out.

"Nah," Steve replied, silencing him with another hot mess of lips and tongue. Tony moaned into his mouth. "Nah, I need this, too," Steve confessed, wrapping his slick, sticky arm around Tony's waist and pulling them close. "I want you to feel good — wanna see that sweet look on your face when I call you good."

"I don't—" Tony choked out, tangled up in the hot, messy emotions of everything being so plainly laid out like this. He didn't— God, he didn't want Steve to think he was selfish, or that he just wanted Steve to go around complimenting him all the time—

"I don't say anything I don't mean, Tony," Steve murmured against his lips. He cupped Tony's jaw, softened it so they could make out again, a leisurely twist of tongues and soft, spit-slick lips. "Y'think I'd fluff you up just to get a good suck?" Steve's hard, heavy cock bumped the underside of Tony's balls, skidded against his perineum and slid against the crease where his ass met his thighs. Tony made a soft, wanting noise. "You've earned everything I said tonight," Steve promised, dragging his tongue down his chin to mouth at Tony's jaw. "Now let me take care of you, yeah?"

Steve pulled him a bath, poured in all the sweet and spicy soaps that Tony loved to luxuriate in, cradled Tony against his chest and between his thighs. They'd been together long enough now that Steve could use the fine mechanical trimmer to neaten the edges of his goatee that had softened over the course of the day, could practically do it backwards and blindfolded and certainly behind him in the bath. There were sports drinks on the lip of the tub for the both of them to drink when they had time for their more active scenes. Steve would drink any of them, but his favorites were the yellow and light blue flavors, Tony had discovered, so he made sure to stock extras of them all around the mansion and both their bedrooms.

"Head back," Steve murmured, tipping Tony's head against his neck and running wet fingers through Tony's hair. "Open your mouth." Steve tapped the lip of the bottle to Tony's lips and let him take gentle sips while Steve slid the foamy bubbles up and down Tony's chest. Eventually, Tony made a small noise in the back of his throat, smacked his lips against the salty-sweet taste of it, and Steve hummed and placed the bottle on the shelf beside them. "Good boy," Steve rumbled, slid his hands up and down Tony's flank. "I love when you get so sweet and down that all you want to do is please me." Steve sighed, nosed in against Tony's damp curls. He'd mentioned once, underneath all the sweat and cologne and liquor, that Tony smelled so— so sweet, at the core of him, like clean cotton and tea, and feeling Steve bury his face into Tony's hair and breathe in deep brought all of those warm, fuzzy feelings to the surface again.

"I do," Tony whispered, feeling something shudder and release in the center of his chest, like his sternum was about to vibrate right out of him. It was all Tony ever wanted— "Steve," Tony whispered again.

"Shh," Steve soothed, finally leaning forward so he could pull the stopper out of the tub. Steve rinsed them off, grabbed a stack of towels from the warming rack on the wall, and toweled Tony ever-so-gently dry before wrapping him in one of his decadent fluffy robes the team always gave him shit for. "You please me so well," Steve murmured, grabbing Tony around the waist again so he could lift him up, carry him out and into the bedroom.

Tony shivered, felt his skin prickle with goosebumps again, even as Steve pressed his hot hands to Tony's chest. "Darling," he whispered, swayed a little on his feet.

Steve smiled, pulled on the collar of his robe until it pooled on the floor beneath them. "Let's go to bed, Tony," he said, pulling back the thick, quilted comforter and burying them both inside of it. Tony shivered again, and Steve pulled him in close, pressing Tony's head into the crook of his neck. His legs slipped between Tony's own, the thick, corded muscle impossibly warm and soft as they tangled their bodies tight together. Tony could hear the strong beating of Steve's heart, the heavy thudding of his pulse in his throat. He could feel the soft dusting of hair on Steve's calves and thighs, the coarse curls of the pubic hair at his groin. Steve's fingers crawled up to pet the nape of Tony's neck. "You're so good to me," he praised, and Tony's breath hitched in his throat, a soft, sound stuck in the back of it.

"Steve," Tony whispered, wrapped his arms around Steve's middle. He felt his own heart pounding as if it was going to burst from his chest, overlarge like the Grinch on Christmas morning.

"You are, Tony," Steve said again, rubbing the tightly-wound muscles behind Tony's ears. "You're so very good to me, always. You're the best," he promised, dropping a kiss to Tony's hair. "I'm so— honored, that you go so sweet for me, that you let me give you what you need. That you give me what I need." Tony gasped again, moaned softly under his breath, and Steve tilted Tony's head up so he could bring their lips together. "That's right. I need it, too. And you're so, so good to me, for letting me have this, for letting me give you what you need."

"I love you," Tony gasped, his eyes fluttering shut against the wave of raw emotion welling up inside him. I love you, he thought desperately, practically shaking under the weight of it all. I'd wear your collar proudly, everyday — I'd wear a ring if you gave it to me.

"I love you," Steve whispered back, and Tony could hear the smile in it, those three words that always had Tony's heart twisting in his chest. Fingers slipped through Tony's hair again, curling around the back of his skull, and Steve was kissing him again, his soft plush lips molding Tony like he was made of clay. "I love you," Steve told him again, "and I'm so lucky to have you." When Steve massaged the back of his skull again, Tony felt some of the tension unknot, felt his limbs relax once more into Steve's hold.

"How's my fella?" Steve asked eventually, when Tony felt himself finally start to go soft and sweet again. The blanket felt heavy over them, warm and weighted and perfect for coming up after a scene. Tony blinked leisurely up at Steve. "Did'ya get what you needed, hm?" he asked, thumbing against Tony's lip.

"It was—" Tony's tongue felt sticky again, and he smacked his lips, pressed a kiss to Steve's palm. "It was absolutely wonderful, my darling," Tony confessed. "Ten out of ten, would sub again—"

"Yeah, alright," Steve huffed, a grin peeking out from his sour facade, and he knuckled lightly against the side of Tony's skull. "Okay, okay, you're up now, I get it."

"I could be persuaded to go back down," Tony said, kissing Steve's hand again. "All you have to do is ask."

"No," Steve replied, shaking his head. "No, this was good," he reiterated, brushing an errant curl out of Tony's eyes. "Thank you for giving this to me, Tony."

"Darling," Tony murmured, moving forward to capture Steve's lips with his own, "I may need you to pinch me, because I'm certain that this was all for me. I should be thanking you."

Steve snorted, knocked his heels against the backs of Tony's calves. "Yeah, alright, Mister Smooth Talker," he teased, nosing in against Tony's skin again. "I'm still gonna thank 'ya, though."

Something akin to contentment settled in under his skin. "It was absolutely my pleasure," Tony whispered softly. There was only so much bravado he could display, naked in bed with Steve though, so after a moment he murmured, "...Thank you, Steve."

Steve smiled against his skin and held on tight.