It’s not that Steve hates his birthday, he just doesn’t understand the fuss people make over them, over him, more often than not. Birthdays meant something when he was a kid, when his ma would’ve scraped together enough ingredients to make him a cake, even if it were lopsided and not even that sweet, when Bucky would’ve stolen a penny toy and lied about it, just to give him a gift. The last birthday he remembers actually enjoying was the last one before his ma died, after that he happily let his birthdays take a backseat to the Fourth celebrations.
And then the war happened and his birthday didn’t mean much aside from becoming another piece of propaganda.
So, when Tony asks him what he wants for his birthday at the Fourth party he’s throwing, Steve shrugs and says “to get laid,” without even thinking about it.
“Shit, I didn’t mean—” Steve can feel his cheeks flush with heat as he realises what he’s said. “Ignore that, really, I’ve had some of Thor’s mead and I—”
“That’s a cute excuse, but I know you’ve been drinking Mojitos and, unless Erskine’s science was very very wrong, those don’t affect you. So,” Tony hops up on the counter, the muscles in his arms flexing as he does. “No dice.”
“Is there any way I can get you to drop this?” Steve asks, folding his arms over his chest. “Tony, I don’t really want to—”
“Hey, I only came in here to see why you were hiding from the party. And to make sure you hadn’t found the birthday cake I have hidden away.”
“It’s your birthday,” Tony says, looking at him with a curious expression on his face. “Of course there’s cake. And don’t try and change the subject, do you really want to get laid? Because I can help you with that, uh. If you want.”
Steve raises an eyebrow as he looks at Tony, perched on the counter in shorts and a ratty old Duran Duran t-shirt. “You could—what do you mean by that, exactly?”
“You know what I mean,” Tony says, meeting Steve’s gaze, and Steve’s thrown by the fact that Tony looks almost nervous; like he’s throwing something out there that he’s not sure Steve is going to catch, and—.
“Tony, are you—”
“Just sex, right? You’re not looking for a relationship?”
“No, I—” Steve shakes his head. “I’m not ready for that,” he says with a slight shrug. “Don’t know if I ever will be.”
“Come here,” Tony says, shifting on the counter, making room for Steve between his legs, and Steve feels like his brain is shutting down. “JARVIS? Lock entrance to this kitchen,” Tony says quietly, his gaze not leaving Steve.
Steve closes the gap between them, Tony’s legs automatically winding around his hips, and Steve leans in, his mouth brushing over Tony’s lips. “I didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?” Tony asks softly, nose bumping against Steve’s cheek. “Didn’t know you could have this? Baby, you could’ve had this any time you wanted.”
“Baby?” Steve pulls back and wrinkles his nose. “Really?”
“Mood killer? How about honey? Sweetheart? Sugarlump?”
Steve rolls his eyes and leans in, pressing his lips against Tony’s in a firm kiss, something settling in his stomach when Tony’s arms wrap around him, pulling him close. Cupping the back of Tony’s head, Steve softens the kiss, enjoying the way Tony opens his mouth slightly, and he goes with it. He’s been kissed before, but nothing like this; Steve can feel the intent behind this one, and he can feel Tony’s hands sliding into the waistband of Steve’s shorts, his fingers pressing against Steve’s skin. There’s a heat to the kiss that soon has Steve’s cock hardening, and he breaks away, resting their foreheads together.
“I can—I want to help you with that,” Tony says, glancing down between them for a moment before meeting Steve’s eyes again. “If you want.”
“I want,” Steve says.
“Have you—” Tony breaks off, leans back a little. “I’ve never been what’s considered sensitive, but have you ever—or are you—”
Steve’s skin feels overheated, and he ducks his head, avoiding Tony’s eyes for a moment. “Do you really need to know?”
“No,” Tony says quickly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I kinda want to know if you wanting to get laid is because you’re horny or because you want to rid yourself of that pesky social construct.”
“Both,” Steve says with a shrug.
“Oh,” Tony says, letting out a breath. “And you—me? Really?”
“No, no, I—” Tony makes a face. “How about I jerk you off before people start getting suspicious about what we’re doing in here?”
“Yes,” Steve says, kissing Tony impulsively. “Please.” He’s barely got the words out before Tony’s nimble fingers are pushing his shorts down with an eagerness Steve never would’ve expected and—. “Fuck,” Steve gasps out as Tony’s hand wraps around his cock.
“Yeah, we’ll get to that,” Tony says with a laugh. “Jesus, I might need to work up to it given your... everything. Were you always this big? And, god, uncircumcised, what a treat.”
Tony’s hands are wickedly clever, and Steve hasn’t felt this helpless in years, it’s like his entire world has been narrowed down to the feel of Tony’s hand on him, hearing words soft like confessions spilling from Tony’s mouth, and then Steve can’t take it much longer; he runs his hand through Tony’s hair and pulls him close, kissing him with everything he has. The familiar coil in his gut feels so much more intense than it does when he’s by himself, and before he can say anything, he’s coming, gasping into Tony’s mouth.
“Yeah,” Tony says, lips brushing over Steve’s mouth. “There you go, fuck, look at you. Gorgeous.”
Steve laughs softly against Tony’s mouth before he kisses him. His entire body feels relaxed, and he presses their mouths together again before leaning back. There’s a brilliant smile on Tony’s face, one Steve doesn’t think he’s seen before, and he tries to ignore the way it goes straight to his heart.
“Happy birthday, Steve.”
Steve doesn’t actually intend for it to become a thing after that, he really doesn’t. He can’t get the smile Tony gave him off his mind, and it’s—he knows himself too well to even think that it would be a good idea to have casual sex with Tony.
Then there’s a bad mission, one that ends with more people dead than they ever expected and when they get back, Tony doesn’t say a word to anyone, just goes straight to his workshop. No one tells him to do it, but Steve just wants Tony to know it’s not his fault, he wants to be the person to try and make him feel better.
When he gets down there, Tony’s out of the suit, slumped on the couch with a still full bottle of Johnnie Walker in his hands. “JARVIS?” Steve asks, not looking away from Tony through the glass walls. “Do I have access?”
The door slides open in response, and Steve steps inside, pausing to say hi to DUM-E when he rushes over to greet him. “Hey,” Steve says, walking over and sitting next to Tony. “You going to drink that?”
“Thinking about it,” Tony says quietly. “But no, probably not.”
“You’re not going to lecture me?”
“Not my job,” Steve says mildly. “Just wanted to see what I could do for you.”
Reaching over and taking the bottle, Steve opens it and takes a swig. It’s smooth going down his throat, but it doesn’t have any kind of an effect on him. “You know,” he says. “The last time I tried to get drunk was a day like this.”
“Bucky. It’s how I found out I couldn’t get drunk.”
Tony hums thoughtfully, but doesn’t say anything in response, just shifts on the couch until he’s leaning against Steve. Putting the bottle down on the floor, Steve swallows, running a hand up Tony’s thigh.
“Can I—before, I didn’t get to—”
“You want to jerk me off, Cap?”
“Yes,” Steve says, pressing a light kiss to the side of Tony’s head as he unzips Tony’s pants, tugging them down until he can get Tony’s cock out. He’s half hard, and Steve wonders if that’s for him, if he’s made Tony feel this way. There’s a nudge to his shoulder, and when Steve looks at Tony he sees a small tube in Tony’s hand.
“Lube,” Tony says, as he squeezes some out into Steve’s hand. “You know.”
“Didn’t have stuff as nice as this back in the day,” Steve says, slowly stroking Tony’s cock, enjoying the way it swells in his hand.
“I’ll get you some,” Tony says, his hips jerking slightly as he pushes up into Steve’s grip. “You’re pretty slick without it, but—oh god right there. It, uh, it adds—are you really making me talk right now?”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Steve says, swiping his thumb over the head of Tony’s cock.
“Thank you, Dr Phil. God, Steve, I’m—you gotta—”
Steve reaches over with his free hand and touches Tony’s chin, tilting his face until he can press their mouths together; the groan Tony lets out as he comes is muffled by the kiss, and Steve revels in it, letting himself enjoy the way Tony slows the kiss down as he comes down off the high of his orgasm.
“That was—incredible,” Tony mumbles against Steve’s mouth.
“Yeah,” Steve says, pulling away enough to meet Tony’s eyes. Letting go of Tony’s cock, Steve wipes his hand on his sweatpants and leans back on the couch. “Feel better?”
“I do,” Tony says, tugging his pants back up and looking at Steve with a calculated gaze. “Did you come here for that?”
“I came down here to make you feel better, this was just—”
“Something like that,” Steve says with a smile, resting his hand on Tony’s thigh and squeezing. “You know today wasn’t your fault, right?”
“Can we not? I just—” Tony covers Steve’s hand with his own. “I get what you’re trying to tell me, but I can’t just switch it off. The guilt. Also you’re killing my orgasm buzz.”
Steve laughs, nudging Tony’s shoulder with his own. “Okay, but if you—”
“What do you think about us doing this more often?” Tony interrupts. “Not a relationship, just—getting each other off. We could—”
“Yes,” Steve blurts out, wincing at how quickly he says it, but there’s no judgement on Tony’s face, just a soft smile. “I mean. I trust you, Tony. And we—I think we get along?”
“We do. And I think, keep this just between us? If that’s—”
“I agree,” Steve says. “It’s no one’s business but ours.”
“Okay,” Tony says, leaning in and kissing Steve. “Just us.”
Steve’s not entirely sure this is the best idea but as Tony gently pushes him back against the couch, he’s fairly certain he doesn’t care.
“What’re you doing later?” Tony asks around a yawn as he looks over at Steve, his hair messy like he’s just woken up, even though Steve knows he just hasn’t been to sleep yet.
“Uh,” Steve looks around the kitchen where Natasha is narrowing her eyes at Tony. “Nothing important.”
“Want to do something? Involving me?”
“Sounds dangerous,” Steve says, raising an eyebrow at Tony and trying to hide the smile that wants to cross his face.
“You know I wouldn’t make any bangs you don’t want me to make,” Tony says before draining his coffee. “I’m going to nap, find me later?”
Steve nods and, wary of Natasha’s eyes on him, doesn’t watch Tony leave. Quickly finishing his granola, Steve washes up the bowl and sets it on the drainer. He thinks he’s almost in the clear when Natasha speaks up.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” Steve stills in the doorway, but doesn’t turn around, too worried something’s written over his face that Nat’ll be able to read.
Sighing, Steve gives in and turns to face her, folding his arms across his chest. “What?”
“You’re hanging out with Tony now?”
“We’re friends,” he says. “Is that a problem?”
Natasha fixes a look at him, one that Steve’s only ever seen her bring out when she’s particularly suspicious about something, but then her face changes and Steve knows enough to be nervous. “Did you get invited to the MoMA event?” she asks. “They’re exhibiting some of the art Tony’s donated.”
“Uh, yes. Yeah. Why?”
“You’re going to need a date.”
“No I’m not,” Steve says automatically. “I mean, it’s not required, right? I can go alone.”
“You can,” Natasha says, raising an eyebrow at him. “I’m not sure you should.”
“I don’t—what are you talking about?”
“If I set you up with someone will you take her?” Natasha asks. “You should have friends outside of us.”
“Because I have so much free time,” Steve says. “Nat, I don’t want to date, and I don’t want to take anyone to the event.”
“Is this about Tony?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Avoidance, interesting,” Natasha says, reaching up and patting his cheek. “See you later, Steve,” she calls as she walks out of the kitchen.
“The fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath. “JARVIS? Is Tony asleep?”
“He is, Captain. He’s asked me to wake him in four hours,” JARVIS says. “And, if I may, Director Fury has been trying to get in contact with you.”
“Guess I know what I’m doing for the next four hours, then,” Steve says with a groan. “Thanks, JARVIS. When Tony wakes up, could you let me know?”
“Sir has already asked that I tell you,” JARVIS says, and something in Steve’s chest twists at that, already anticipating what Tony has planned.
Steve’s still finishing up reports for Fury in the office Tony set up for him when JARVIS breaks in to tell him Tony’s awake. Glancing at what he has left to do, Steve rubs a hand over his face before thanking JARVIS for letting him know. Just as he’s signing the last of the reports, he feels the slide of a hand on his shoulder, a kiss pressed against his neck, and it’s only the scent telling him it’s Tony that stops him from reacting badly.
“You done?” Tony asks, his fingers raking through Steve’s hair, and Steve leans into it, enjoying the casual touch.
“Just finished,” he says, closing his eyes as Tony tugs on the ends of his hair. “So, Natasha said something to me.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Tony says, his fingers stilling before he removes them from Steve’s head.
“She just—the MoMA event, she thinks I should take a date.”
“Oh. Do you—is there someone you want—”
“No,” Steve says, turning around in his chair. “I told you, I’m not ready for anything like that, but—”
“What?” Tony asks, head tilting slightly.
“I don’t think she’s going to let up,” Steve says. “I mean, I think she—”
Tony nods, his fingers tapping against his thigh absently. “You should do it,” he says.
“Excuse me?” Steve asks, taken aback somewhat. “You think I should—”
“Take someone to the event.”
Steve’s distracted by Tony sliding onto his lap, and he automatically rests his hands on Tony’s waist, adjusting to the weight of him. “Wait,” he says as Tony’s leaning in to kiss him. “Why do you think I should take a date?”
“Look,” Tony says, a note of exasperation in his voice. “You hate the press, right? Me too. You give them a little something to occupy themselves and they won’t pay attention to, uh, anything else.”
“Like the fact we’re fucking.”
“See, you get it,” Tony says, a tight smile on his face. “Now. Want to go to my room and fuck?”
Steve closes the gap between them, catching Tony’s mouth in a firm kiss, warmth spreading through his body when he realises just how quickly Tony sinks into it, how he instantly gives in and lets Steve take what he wants. It’s a heady responsibility, and Steve gently runs his hands down Tony’s back before gripping his ass and standing up.
“Fuck,” Tony blurts out, breaking the kiss and holding onto Steve’s shoulders. “I knew you could, but—”
“Do you need to ask stupid questions?”
Steve ignores him. “JARVIS? Is anyone in the tower?”
“Thank you,” Steve says. Returning his attention to Tony, Steve raises an eyebrow. “Any objection to me not letting you down?”
“No, no objection,” Tony says. “Very firmly in favour of this. Onwards.”
Somewhere in the journey to Tony’s bedroom, Steve loses his shirt, and he makes a mental note to pick it up before anyone gets home. The door closes silently behind them, and then Steve’s suddenly struck by the quiet in the room. “How do you—” Steve breaks off at the feel of Tony’s mouth on his neck. “Tony, what should—”
“Bed,” Tony mumbles against Steve’s neck. “Just, get me on the bed.”
Steve follows Tony’s directions and walks over to the large bed, dropping Tony down as gently as he can. Straightening up, he looks down at Tony all sprawled out, his hair a mess, his lips red from their kisses, and Steve can’t think of anything aside from how much he wants him. “Can I fuck you?” he asks, the words falling out of his mouth before he can even think about not saying them.
“Fuck yes,” Tony says, reaching down and shoving his sweatpants off, kicking them onto the floor. “Please.” He goes to pull his t-shirt off and pauses. “I—the reactor, it’s—there’s scarring and—”
“Take it off,” Steve says firmly, taking care not to make it an order. “I want to see you, Tony. All of you.”
There’s a slight hesitation in Tony’s movements, but when he throws his t-shirt onto the floor, he settles back on the bed with what looks like a challenge in his eyes. Steve smiles, looking him up and down, before he strips out of the rest of his clothes and climbs on the bed. Reaching out, Steve touches the skin by the reactor gently, watching Tony’s face as he does so. “Is this okay?” he asks, running a finger along one of the scars.
“Yes,” Tony says, with an audible swallow. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Steve says, before lowering his head and pressing a soft kiss to the scarred skin. “Tony, I know this isn’t—that we’re not—but that doesn’t mean I’m going to treat you like dirt.”
“That wasn’t what I—” Tony sighs. “I think you’re incapable of doing that, I just—they’re not exactly attractive.”
Steve looks back up, meeting Tony’s eyes. “Maybe not to you.”
“Okay, if you have a fetish for scars then we really should—”
“No,” Steve says with a laugh. “I don’t have a scar fetish.”
Tony nods, wriggling on the bed as he reaches a hand under the pillow and pulls out a tube. “So, how about we move this along and get to the main event? Slick yourself up.”
“Don’t I need to—” Steve can feel his skin heating up. “I’m pretty big, and—”
“Don’t be mad, but I kinda took care of that before I came to find you” Tony says. “Thought it might make it easier.”
“Not that I don’t appreciate it,” he says, his fingers trailing down Tony’s body until he reaches Tony’s cock. “But next time, I want to take you apart.” Steve runs his fingers along Tony’s hardening cock and watches the way Tony’s mouth falls open at the touch. “Yeah,” Steve says with a smile. “Just like that.”
“Captain America is a goddamn tease,” Tony says, and before Steve realises what’s happening, he’s on his back with Tony on top of him, knees either side of Steve’s thighs.
“Just let me make you feel good this time,” Tony says, sitting back slightly and letting Steve’s cock drag against his ass. “Yeah?”
Steve nods, and the next thing he knows, Tony’s hand is wrapped around his cock, slick as anything, and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. Tony’s talking, words falling out of his mouth that Steve isn’t really paying attention to, and then he’s watching as Tony lines himself up with Steve’s cock. “Tony, are you—oh fuck,” he groans as Tony starts to sink down. “Jesus, Tony, I—” Steve instinctively grabs Tony’s thighs, trying not to hold on too hard.
“Yeah,” Tony says, and he sounds almost breathless. “Been a while for me, and I—christ, you feel good.”
Swallowing, Steve tries to hold onto the thin thread of patience he has as Tony slowly takes him all, and when he’s finally fully seated, Steve slides his hands to Tony’s hips, thumbs brushing over his hip bones. “Can I?” he asks, shifting a little so Tony gets what he means.
“Go for it, soldier,” Tony says.
And from there, it’s all instinct, Steve losing himself in Tony’s body, pushing up inside him, gripping Tony’s hips so hard he’s sure he’s going to leave bruises, but from the noises Tony’s making, he doesn’t seem to care. Steve could listen to the little gasps and moans falling from Tony’s mouth until the end of time. He pushes inside Tony again and again, chasing his orgasm, the feeling building low in his gut until he can’t take it anymore. “Tony, I—”
“You close?” Tony asks, his hands a firm pressure against Steve’s chest as he rides him. “Come on, you can come in me, I want you to.”
Steve cries out as he comes, burying himself as deep as he possibly can inside Tony, his entire body shaking like it’s been through a goddamn battle. “Fuck,” he breathes out, loosening his grip on Tony, his head resting against the pillow as he looks up at Tony. There’s a mess of sweat and come between them, and Steve realises that at some point Tony must’ve come. “We’re doing that again,” he says as Tony climbs off him, only going as far as to collapse next to Steve on the bed.
“Agreed,” Tony says. “But give me at least 24 hours to recover.”
Despite Steve’s protests, Natasha introduces him to Sharon, Peggy’s niece, and it’s—well. It’s awkward. Even if Steve were interested in dating someone, he wouldn’t want to date someone related to Peggy, and Sharon realises that about five minutes into their coffee date. Once they move past that, Steve actually has fun, Sharon tells him stories about Peggy, and offhandedly mentions Peggy having looked after Tony as a child, which makes Steve laugh.
She’s a lovely woman, and when Steve asks her to join him for the MoMA event, she agrees.
Steve picks her up in one of the cars Tony’s hired for the night, and when they get to the event, the vehicle joins the queue of cars waiting to reach the red carpet. Looking over at Sharon, Steve smiles. “You nervous?”
“About what? Being on the arm of Captain America for the entire world to see?” Sharon offers him a small smile. “I can handle myself.”
“I would assume so,” Steve says, tapping his fingers against the seat of the car. “You look very nice.”
“Thank you,” she says. “So do you.”
Steve looks down at himself, the suit had been waiting in his room at the tower after he came back from a run one day, and he knows Tony had it made. There were cufflinks on his desk in the shape of his shield that also had to be custom made, and he doesn’t know why Tony put so much effort into making sure he was outfitted properly, but he appreciates it. “Thank you,” he says eventually.
“Can I ask you something? Why did you invite me?”
“These things can be boring,” Steve says honestly. “And it’s a little less boring with a friend.”
“I’ll take it,” Sharon says with an amused smile. “Aunt Peggy always did say you were hopeless with women.”
“Some things don’t change, I guess,” Steve says as the car moves forward. “Looks like we’re up.”
There’s too many flashes when they get out of the car, and Steve ushers Sharon inside as quickly as he can, snagging a flute of champagne once they’re shielded from the cameras. There’s enough people inside that he can’t immediately spot Tony, but he sees Natasha making conversation with Pepper by one of the donated artworks, so he knows Tony must be around somewhere.
“Looking for someone?” Sharon asks, catching his attention.
“No,” Steve says. “Just taking it all in.”
“Shall we mingle? Keep you from being cornered by people you don’t want to talk to?”
“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Steve says with a small smile as he offers his arm to her.
It’s a couple of hours before Steve sees Tony, and only then because someone calls Tony’s name across the room. He’s wearing a new suit, as far as Steve can tell, burgundy with black piping, and Steve’s sure that only Tony could carry off a suit like that.
Glancing around the room, Steve excuses himself from the people talking at him, and goes to the open bar, sliding a note in the tip jar as he orders a scotch. The bartender’s just handed it to him when he feels a hand slide across his lower back, and Steve’s about to protest when he hears Tony’s voice.
“It’s good stuff,” Tony says, nodding at the scotch. “Not that I’ve been sampling any of it tonight, but I dimly recall.”
“Haven’t seen you all night,” Steve says, leaning against the bar.
“Well, you’ve been busy with your date,” Tony says in a tone Steve can’t quite identify. “So,” Tony says, lowering his tone. “Seeing as you’re wearing a suit I had custom made for you, and I’ve been busy with work too much to fully appreciate you lately, want to meet me in the bathroom?”
Steve chokes on his scotch, and grabs a napkin, wiping his mouth and hands as Tony watches him, a smile in his eyes. “Tony—”
“Before you say no, I have lube in my pocket and the ability to close down the bathroom for as long as we need.”
“What bathroom?” Steve says, before he can overthink it, his cock already reacting to Tony’s words, and he hides a smile when Tony winks at him.
Tony slips a couple of notes to the bathroom attendant, and takes the key he’s handed. Steve waits for him to lock the door, and then he’s on Tony, pushing him against the door and kissing him, gratified by how quickly Tony responds. Steve slides a hand down Tony’s body, cupping his crotch and smiling into the kiss when Tony lets out a whine. “You want me to fuck you right here up against the door?” he asks. “Where anyone could hear?”
“Please,” Tony groans.
“No,” Steve says, breaking the kiss and taking a step back. Tony already looks wrecked, his shirt askew, hair sticking up in all directions, and, as Steve watches him, he’s reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small tube of lube.
“Over there,” Steve says. “By the mirrors. I want you to—” Steve swallows and pauses. “I want you to see what it’s like when I fuck you.”
Tony visibly shivers, and he closes the gap between them, pushing the tube into Steve’s hand and, after brushing a kiss against Steve’s cheek, he walks over to the sinks and very deliberately rests his hands against the counter, looking back at Steve over his shoulder.
Walking over, Steve presses himself against Tony’s back, his hand running down Tony’s front before he unfastens Tony’s pants, pushing them down and taking pleasure in the way Tony automatically spreads his legs as much as he can. Steve doesn’t take his own pants off, just unzips them and gets his cock out, stroking it as he looks at Tony all spread out in front of him.
“Are you going to fuck me, or just jerk off while looking at me?” Tony asks, meeting Steve’s eyes in the mirror.
“Oh I’m going to fuck you,” Steve says, sliding a hand up Tony’s back before putting slight pressure on his neck. “You can be sure about that.”
Steve lets go and quickly slicks up a couple of fingers before pressing them against Tony’s hole. For a moment, he thinks he’s being too ambitious, that maybe he should’ve started with one, but Tony just pushes back against him, swearing under his breath as he does. Placing a kiss behind Tony’s ear, Steve works his fingers inside him, opening him up as fast as he can.
“God, Steve,” Tony says with a groan. “Right there, yeah—I—”
“Do you think people have noticed we’re missing?” Steve whispers in Tony’s ear, looking at the way he’s reacting in the mirror. “How long do you think we’ve got until they come looking for us?”
“Won’t find us,” Tony says. “I paid that bathroom attendant good money to tell everyone this bathroom is off limits.”
Steve laughs as he slides his fingers out of Tony. “Still,” he says, slicking his cock up. “Better be quick. Bend over a little,” he says as he holds his cock, eyes raking over the curve of Tony’s ass. “God, Tony, you look—” Steve cuts himself off for fear of revealing too much and instead he doesn’t say a word as he presses his cock against Tony’s hole, sliding in inch by inch. It hasn’t got old yet, the feeling of being inside Tony, of having Tony so willing to be this intimate with him, and Steve doesn’t think it ever will. Slowly he starts to move, fucking Tony, and unable to keep his eyes off Tony’s face in the mirror.
“Harder,” Tony begs, meeting Steve’s eyes in the mirror. “Steve, please.”
Tony’s lips are bitten red, and there’s a small trickle of sweat that Steve can see running down his temple. When they go back to the party, Tony’s going to look fucked out, he’s going to look like he was doing exactly what they are doing, but no one out there is going to know it was Steve and that—. Steve moves faster, wanting Tony to feel it like he’s begging to, wanting Tony to remember it’s him that fucked him, that there’s no one else making him feel this way.
Steve’s orgasm takes him by surprise like a punch to the gut, and he grunts as he comes before reaching around and taking Tony’s cock in hand, using every trick in the book he’s learnt about how to please Tony to get him shouting out as he spills all over Steve’s hand.
“Jesus, Steve,” Tony says as Steve pulls out of him, trying not to cause too much of a mess.
“Stay there,” Steve says, grabbing some of the hand towels on the counter. “Let me clean you up.” He wets them a little and gently wipes at Tony’s skin. “Should’ve brought a condom,” he says quietly.
“You can’t catch anything,” Tony says with a shrug. “And I—”
“I like it,” Tony says, and when Steve looks up, Tony’s got an almost embarrassed look on his face. “I mean, maybe not when I’ve still got to glad hand for another few hours and just the thought of your come inside me is enough to make me hard again, but—” he cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Are you done?”
“Huh?” Steve shakes his head, pulls the towel away and looks at Tony’s ass. “Uh, yeah. Yes.”
“Did I distract you?” Tony asks, a small smile on his face as he sorts out his clothing, pulling his pants back up. “You like the thought of me walking around out there with your come inside me?”
Steve ducks his head as he cleans himself up, dropping the hand towels in the trash can and fastening his pants. “A little.”
“Hey,” Tony says, reaching over and touching Steve’s chin. “You’re allowed to like it. We didn’t exactly talk about—”
“We don’t need to talk about anything,” Steve says. “I’m not an idiot, I know that there’s—”
“Okay,” Tony says, holding his hands up. “Okay. I just wanted to—look. If there is anything about this whole deal you want to talk about then, uh, I’m here, I guess.”
“That’s reassuring, thanks,” Steve deadpans, breaking into a smile when Tony lets out a frustrated huff. “Come on, finish making yourself look less—”
“Yes, that, and get back to your fancy party.”
A look flickers across Tony’s face, too quickly for Steve to really see what it was. “Yes, Captain,” Tony says, offering him a small smile.
Before they started this, Steve never realised how many events Tony attended. He’d been given a file of information before they’d ever even met, and he thought he understood the idea of socialising amongst the filthy rich in an abstract way, but lately it seemed like Tony was out almost every night.
“Are there always this many events for you to go to?” he asks one day in Tony’s workshop, half naked and lazily happy on the couch after a blow job.
“It’s the run up to the holidays,” Tony says, glancing over at Steve from where he’s been fiddling with a design for Clint’s arrows. “That, plus having to give a positive spin on the amount of property damage we end up doing when we fight, leads to a busy time.”
“And do you always take different dates?”
“I used to take Pepper, the years before we—well.” Tony closes the holo and looks at Steve. “Before Pepper, I took anyone, usually ended up leaving with more. These dates, they’re—”
“For show?” Steve asks, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable twisting in his gut.
“Something like that. Sometimes it’s someone I owe a favour to, sometimes someone else who needs to be introduced to someone but wouldn’t ever get the chance. I try to, I don’t know, make a difference, maybe, with who I take now? Before, anyone who’d been in Maxim was good enough. Not that they weren’t all lovely ladies in their own ways, but it’s different now.”
“Oh,” Steve says, grabbing his shirt from where it got thrown aside by Tony earlier and pulling it on. “That’s—that’s great, Tony. I forgot, I was going to spar with Natasha, so I’m going to—”
“Are you okay?” Tony interrupts. “Steve?”
“I’m fine,” Steve says, offering Tony a tight smile. “How could I not be after that blow job?”
“Right,” Tony says slowly. “Okay. Guess I’ll see you.”
Steve doesn’t look back as he leaves the workshop, the feeling in his gut getting worse as he walks away. Heading straight to his room and closing the door behind him, Steve walks over to the couch and sinks into it, closing his eyes and trying to not think about Tony and his dates. This all started because he didn’t want a relationship, he just wanted to get laid, and now—.
Maybe spending too much time with Tony outside of sex had been the mistake, but just the thought of not spending time with Tony makes Steve want to cry. Tony’s become his closest friend, even without the amount of time they’ve spent naked together, Steve can’t imagine his life without Tony in it, and he’s willing to take what he can get even if it’s—.
He can’t possibly be thinking—.
Steve doesn’t want a relationship. He doesn’t. He’s sure of it.
Steve wakes up slowly, there’s a warm weight against his chest, and he frowns, staring up at the ceiling trying to get his bearings. The last thing he remembers is going to get up to leave and Tony catching his arm and mumbling that he should stay. Tony’s hair is brushing against his chin, his fingers a light pressure against his shoulder, and as much as Steve wants to push Tony off him and run away, he doesn’t do it. He should. He should’ve left last night.
“Y’r heart is going fast,” Tony mumbles against Steve’s chest.
“Sorry,” Steve breathes out. “Just—never woken up like this before.”
Tony raises his head a little, squinting at nothing in particular. “You’re warm,” he says before putting his head back down, and Steve sighs, his hand resting at the small of Tony’s back. “Stop freaking out.”
“I’m not freaking out. Exactly.”
“This feels like a little more than what we agreed this was going to be.”
“You’ve never woken up with someone before?”
“You know I haven’t,” Steve says.
“Right,” Tony says, biting his lip like he’s stopping himself from saying anything more.
“I should go.”
Tony rolls off him and pushes himself up on his elbows, meeting Steve’s eyes. “If you want.”
And that’s the problem, really, because Steve doesn’t want, if he could he’d stay in this bed with Tony for as long as possible, but—but that’s not what they’re doing. That’s not what they agreed and so—. “I don’t think it’s about what I want,” he says, getting out of bed and grabbing his boxers from the floor, tugging them on.
“I’ll see you later, Tony,” Steve says, picking up his pants and t-shirt and practically fleeing Tony’s bedroom. He manages to make it to the elevator that’ll take him to his floor before the weight of what he’s feeling lands on him. “Fuck,” he breathes out, pressing the heel of his hands against his eyes. “Fuck.”
Steve shouldn’t be doing this, he should—he should break it off before—.
God, he didn’t mean to develop feelings for Tony, that was the last thing on his mind when he started this, he just wanted to get laid, but Tony was. Well. He was Tony. Brilliant and frustrating and so goddamn attractive. Steve isn’t sure how he could’ve avoided falling—no. He’s not doing that. He’s not.
But he is.
Steve knows himself, and what he’s feeling for Tony is love, he knows it is, and of course he’d end up falling for the one person he can’t have. Just because they’re fucking doesn’t mean—because if Tony had feelings then he would’ve said something. So this is all Steve is going to get and that’s—he’s okay with that. At least, he can be. He thinks.
“Are you taking Sharon to the Gala?” Natasha asks, throwing a punch at him.
“No,” Steve says, dodging it and going for her legs, impressed when she moves out of his reach. “Why?”
“Just curious,” she says, moving along the edge of the mats. “Tony’s taking Pepper, I’m going to go with Clint, figured you’d have someone on your arm.”
Steve’s so distracted by the idea, he doesn’t notice Natasha narrowing her eyes and going for the takedown until his back hits the mat, knocking the air out of him. “Jesus,” he gasps, staring up at the ceiling.
“You were distracted,” Natasha says, her face scrunched up as she looks down at him. “Doesn’t really count.”
“I wasn’t distracted.”
“Sure you weren’t,” Natasha says, offering him a hand up, which he takes, getting to his feet easily. “Is it about Tony and Pepper?”
“Why would you think that?”
Natasha eyes him. “Can’t imagine why,” she says, raising an eyebrow.
“Don’t, Nat,” Steve says, softly. “It’s got nothing to do with them.”
“Sure,” she says. “Just like the fact Tony won’t be home until the day of the Gala has nothing to do with why you’re so antsy.”
Steve sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t,” he says, walking over and grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge in the corner of the gym. “Natasha, I just—”
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she says. “You or Tony.”
“That’s not—” Steve cuts himself off. “I won’t hurt him.”
“You sure about that?”
“I don’t even know that I could hurt him.”
Natasha stares at him for a moment before shaking her head. “Idiots, both of you.”
Steve furrows his brow, watching as she walks out of the gym. “Natasha,” he calls after her. “What do you mean?”
She doesn’t answer, and Steve shakes his head before sitting down on the mats, back leaning against the wall. “JARVIS?”
“When exactly will Tony be back? How long before the Gala, I mean.”
“Sir is scheduled to be back the morning of the Gala, he has a meeting.”
“Thank you,” Steve says. “Could you let me know when he arrives home?”
A few days later Steve gets notified by JARVIS that Tony’s back, and he pauses, a piece of charcoal in his hand. “Is he—” he cuts himself off, putting the charcoal down and swallowing. “JARVIS is he busy?”
“Sir is getting changed before his meeting,” JARVIS says. “But he’ll have some time before leaving.”
Somehow, Steve gets himself together and manages to make it down before Tony leaves. He sees him by the elevator, and he calls out to him, the weight on his shoulders lifting when Tony pauses and looks over, his entire face softening when he sees Steve walking over.
“Hi, I thought that we—what are you—” is all Tony manages to get out before Steve kisses him. Something in Steve’s gut settles as Tony runs a hand down Steve’s back in response to Steve shoving a leg between Tony’s thighs. Steve could push it, could try to get Tony off like this, but instead he breaks the kiss, keeping their faces close and enjoying when Tony nips at his bottom lip, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck.
“So,” Tony says softly. “What brought that on?”
“Nothing,” Steve says before sighing. “It—the Gala. Natasha said you were going with Pepper, and I—it’s not—”
“I’m going with Pepper as friends,” Tony says, fingers running along the cut of Steve’s jaw. “Like we are.”
“Exactly,” Steve says with a sigh. “Like we are.”
“No,” Tony says quickly. “Not like—fuck, not like we are. We don’t—she’s dating an art dealer, but he’s not ready for the attention, so they’re not going to the Gala together. I said I’d go with her instead because you and I aren’t—” Tony pauses, staring at Steve. “Did you want to go with me? I thought that we—”
“You thought right,” Steve says hastily. “We agreed that—”
“Tony, I’m okay with—”
“It’s not just fucking,” Tony blurts out, and Steve shuts up. “I know that we didn’t talk about—”
“Tony,” Steve interrupts, finding his voice. “It’s fine, I didn’t—it was an impulse, I know we’re not—”
“Steve, no, I want—” Tony’s cut off by a buzzing in his pocket, and Steve watches as he pulls out his phone, swearing under his breath as he looks at it. “I gotta—we need to talk about this,” he says. “If you want—”
“I know,” Steve says, trying to force a smile on his face. “We don’t need to talk, it’s okay, I know you don’t want more than what we’ve been doing.”
“What are you—Steve, that’s not—goddamnit,” Tony bites out as his phone goes off again. “Look,” he says, touching Steve on the arm. “Please don’t do anything stupid before I get back, okay?”
“You don’t have to drag it—”
“No,” Tony interrupts. “That’s not what this is,” he says. “Just wait for me to get back, okay? Please?”
Steve doesn’t know what to say, but against his better judgement, he agrees with a nod, hoping that it’s the right decision to make.
“Thank you,” Tony says, kissing Steve’s cheek. “I’ll be back, I promise. Two hours, tops.”
And Steve watches him go.
The two hours pass like molasses, Steve tries to go back to his art, but when he picks up the charcoal all he can see is Tony; the way he looks while he’s getting fucked, the determination in his eyes when he’s building something in the workshop, the chaos of his hair when he’s just woken up. It’s all Steve can think about, and when he thinks about the idea of losing that, of losing the way Tony has wormed his way into every facet of his life, it’s—his chest gets tight like it used to back before the serum, and he hates it.
Sighing, he looks at the clock, and decides to head down to the gym to distract himself. There’s no one else there, and he’s thankful for that, not wanting to explain to anyone why he feels the need to punch the shit out of a bag right now. He tapes up his hands, and gets to work, the reinforced bag feeling steady under his fists.
Steve loses himself in the rhythm of his punches, the familiar coping mechanism helping to clear his mind. If Tony doesn’t want to—then it’ll be fine, Steve thinks, fist hitting the bag over and over again. He’ll cope. It’s just that he—.
“Steve,” Tony’s voice cuts into his thoughts, and Steve grabs the bag, resting his forehead against it for a moment, trying to catch his breath. There’s a vague ache in his shoulders, but it’s not too bad, and he swallows before letting go of the bag and turning around.
“Have you been down here since I left?” Tony asks, dropping his suit jacket on the floor and rolling up his shirt sleeves. “Jesus, Steve.”
“Clears my mind,” Steve says, wiping the back of his hand over his forehead. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t—”
“I like you,” Tony interrupts.
“Not like, yes I like you as a friend, and yes we are friends and we’ve been—”
“That! And I thought—” Tony pauses, running a hand through his hair as he paces back and forth. “I thought that was enough.”
Steve would swear he could hear his heart thumping in his chest. “You mean—”
“I really, really like you,” Tony says, stopping in his tracks and fixing his eyes on Steve. “And I think, hope, that maybe you feel the same way? Not that I could blame you if you don’t, but—”
“I do,” Steve interrupts, taking a few steps closer to Tony, hands by his side itching to reach out. “That morning I woke up in your bed, I—” Steve cuts himself off and shakes his head. “That was everything I ever wanted. I just—I didn’t know I could have it.”
“And if I say you can? That we could have it? That we could try a real relationship?”
Steve closes the gap between them, one hand cupping Tony’s face as he leans down slightly, brushing his lips over Tony’s mouth. “I’d say yes,” he whispers, before catching Tony’s mouth in a kiss. By now, he’s kissed Tony more times than he can count, but this—it’s never felt like this, never felt like his entire world coming together.
“Come to the Gala with me,” Tony mumbles against Steve’s mouth. “As my date.”
“We’ll be the best looking couple there,” Tony says, offering him a small smile. “Please.”
Steve laughs softly before pressing their mouths together again. “Okay,” he says, resting their foreheads together. “Together.”