Peter’s halfway awake, soaking up the sleep-warmth from his cheeks and cuddling against a cool part of his pillow, when his phone starts to ring. Loudly. It’s somewhere on the nightstand, and Peter’s too comfortable to even think about getting up and grabbing it. It rings again, and Peter realizes that it’s on the other nightstand, all the way across the bed, and absolutely gives up on answering the call. Burying his face deeper into his pillow, he waits for the call to go to voicemail, and he lets out a satisfied hum when his ringtone finally stops blaring in his ears.
There is a moment of blissful silence that is broken up only by the sound of his deep, steady breathing, and then—
It starts ringing again.
Happy makes a noise of displeasure from his side, and a second later the bed is shifting around while the older man grumbles under his breath. A piece of cool glass lands on his back, and Peter sucks in a sharp, surprised breath even as he reaches for his phone and gets an eye open to look at his screen.
“Who the hell is callin’ ya this early?” Happy grumbles, and then he rolls over to plant his face against Peter’s bare back.
His skin is still warm, and a shiver runs down Peter’s spine even as he swipes to answer the call. Happy presses a kiss to the ball of his shoulder then trails small, easy kisses down to the base of his neck as he cuddles up against Peter’s back. An arm slides around his stomach and tugs him close, and Peter lets out a quiet noise of pleasure.
Then he presses his phone to his ear, says “Hello?” in a deep, sleep-rumpled voice, and absolutely does not expect for someone to say, “Good mornin’, sugar,” in the sultriest tone he has ever heard.
“James?” he asks. His brain is still thick and slow with sleep, and he has absolutely no idea why James would be calling him at—he pulls his phone away to look—eight in the morning on a Sunday.
“Hiya, sweet thing,” James greets. “I was wonderin’ what you were doin’ today or if I could steal some of your precious time?”
Peter makes a noise to signify that he heard the question, but before he answers, he rubs his face into his pillow to try to clear up his mind and get his brain working. Happy moves away, taking some of his delicious warmth with him, and Peter makes a noise of protest. “What?”
“Well, you see, I’m free, and I was hopin’ I could steal some of your time. I know a place I wanna take ya, a place we could work up a real good sweat together, a place I could roll ya around ‘n get ya underneath me to—”
“Peter! Who the hell is talking to you like that?”
James makes a very loud screeching noise across the line that absolutely murders Peter’s eardrum, and even after pulling his phone away, James is still talking loud enough that he can perfectly hear his tinny voice as he asks, “Is Happy with you right now? Are you at a booty call?”
“Wrong context; booty call would fit better if you called in the middle of the night. Which, wait, am I what?” Peter asks, and then, because Happy is suddenly breathing really heavily, he rolls over to get a look at the other man’s face.
It’s not a good look. It’s really not a good look. Happy looks something close to devastated, with his mouth dropped open in a heartbreaking frown and his eyes wide and glassed over. Happy looks close to devastated, and Peter’s the reason.
“Are you…” Happy trails off, and Peter doesn’t even want to imagine what he’s thinking when he trails off into silence.
“I’ll call you back,” Peter says hurriedly, ending the call and quickly turning to place his phone back on the nightstand he’s come to think of as his over the last few nights spent in the other man’s bed.
“W-Who was that, Peter?” Happy asks.
His voice shakes.
Happy’s voice almost never shakes.
“That was James Barnes,” Peter says quickly, wishing he was still holding his phone so he could pull up the contact for proof. “I have no idea what he was thinking saying that, but it’s the first time he’s said anything like that to me, I swear.”
Happy doesn’t meet his eyes. Everything below his chest is covered by his bedsheet, so Peter only has his face and shoulders to go off of, but Happy doesn’t look very happy at all.
Quietly, Happy asks, “The first?”
“Well, he kinda flirted with me when we were sparring the other day, but you were there! He was totally just joking around, and he saw us leave together,” Peter explains in a rush.
Happy still won’t look at him.
“Are you… are you interested in James?” Happy asks slowly, like he’s parsing out the words before he speaks them.
Peter shakes his head, like, really fast.
“Baby, I am not interested in James at all,” Peter says seriously. The expression on Happy’s face is further from heartbreak, thank god, but his eyes are still averted and there is tension along his shoulders. “James had asked if I wanted to spar again, and I got his number from Dr. Stark who got it… actually, I didn’t ask, which was probably best ‘cause it probably wasn’t totally illegal. But I’m pretty sure he was calling to see if I wanted to meet up with him at the Compound for a training session, that’s it. We talked about it over text last night, and it better be it, ‘cause that’s all I want from him.”
There’s still something that Peter doesn’t like stretched over Happy’s face. The older man still isn’t looking at his eyes, but rather staring somewhere above Peter’s head. He hates it, hates the feeling of distance that’s suddenly between them after the past handful of blissful days they spent together, and decides he has to do something about it.
It’s easy to push Happy onto his back. He rolls over as soon as Peter touches his side, almost like he wants to get away, but Peter doesn’t let him. He swings a leg over Happy’s thighs and moves to settle across his lap, planting his hands on his chest and getting a good grope of his pecs in the process.
“Baby, Hap, I only want you,” Peter tells him quietly, staring down at Happy’s face and watching as the tops of his cheeks go red, the same way they do every time his boyfriend is aroused.
That’s a good sign, right?
Happy’s hands, which are warm, big, and calloused, slide up Peter’s thighs and raise the hairs along his legs. Yeah, that’s a much better sign! Peter is always so sensitive, and the feeling of Happy’s hands, which are usually dry and kinda rough, always go straight to his cock no matter where they’re touching him.
“I’m not… I’m never gonna look like that, Pete. All the trainin’ I do, all the shit I do to keep in shape, I’m still always gonna look like this,” Happy whispers. He’s barely speaking loud enough for Peter to hear him, and he might have missed it if his hearing wasn’t what it is.
As it is, his heart breaks apart.
“I love how you look,” Peter tells him sincerely, and finds that he really means it when a warm pulse of arousal fills his belly.
He is a twenty-something year old with an enhanced stamina and an increased refractory period, spread out over his naked boyfriend’s lap, as said naked boyfriend lies splayed out below him. Of course he’s aroused, but he’s aroused because he’s attracted, almost ridiculously so, to Happy. Happy is turning him on, and Peter, not really all that good at talking out his feelings in a way that actually matters, thinks it might be best to show him.
After all, he’d been crushing on the man for months—years, really, when he was honest with himself—before Happy made any indication that he wanted him back. Now that he has him, Peter’s pretty much horny on main all the time, for him, and now isn’t any different.
“Are you sure?” Happy asks, and there’s still a bead of insecurity in his voice that Peter wants to get rid of.
“Oh, I am definitely sure,” Peter says, rolling his hips forward and dragging the head of his hardening cock against the plump skin of Happy’s belly.
His breath catches in his throat, and he grinds forward again with more purpose. He can feel Happy’s cock, which is deliciously thick and the perfect length that Peter can take all of him into his throat with ease, starting to get hard against the crease of his thigh. Happy moves around until his dick is pointed up towards his belly, and he grows even harder against the simple roll of Peter’s hips.
He keeps his hands on Happy’s chest, flexing his fingers and digging them into the warm skin. Peter is almost always ready to go, and now is no different. The skin on Happy’s stomach is soft, and the hair that’s dusted across his belly makes for a smooth slide against his cock head. Occasionally his slit will catch on a hair, but the little spike of pleasure-pain only makes him harder.
Dropping his head forward, Peter whines. “Fuck, Hap,” he whispers, dragging his hands down to press into Happy’s stomach as he keeps rolling his hips. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“Do I, Pete?” Happy asks him, and then before he’s able to answer, Happy’s hands slide up his thighs to press into the crease of his hips and put pressure on his dick.
“Fuck—” his breath stutters out of him before he’s able to say anything else, and he leans back against Happy’s raised knees. Tossing his head back, Peter looks up at the ceiling as white-hot arousal pulses under his skin.
They’ve fooled around like this a few times. Peter rode Happy last night, sitting back against his thighs just like this, for what felt like forever. Even though this is arguably less intense, Peter feels just as good rutting into the warm skin of Happy’s body.
Happy’s hand presses into the crease of Peter’s thigh and moves his own cock so they’re lined up. He rolls his hips too, and for a few blissful minutes, they grind against one another in perfect unison. Happy leaks when they’re together, and Peter finds it unbearably hot when his precome begins to ease the slide of their erections.
Then, Happy’s hand wraps around his cock and engulfs him from root to tip. It takes one, two, three strokes of his hand before Peter is finished, coming with a low whine. His orgasm shakes through him, and he pulses thick, white globs of come onto Happy’s stomach and chest. He watches, mesmerized and more aroused than he knows what to do with, as they mat in his chest and belly hair.
He drops forward for a kiss that’s uncoordinated and messy, but a few long glides of their lips later, Happy’s coming with a low grunt and adding to the warm mess between them.
Peter’s cock twitches, and he almost gets hard all over again when he leans back to take in the sight.
“You are fucking gorgeous,” Peter breathes, running a hand up and down Happy’s side as the man grins up at him.
The devastation is gone, replaced with an adorable, self-satisfied look. Happy looks like a man who knows he did good, and considering Peter’s still shivering through some light aftershocks, it’s warranted as heck.
“I believe you, Pete,” Happy says quietly. “Not sure if I believe it about myself, but I believe what you feel. D-Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, baby,” Peter whispers, then leans down for another few kisses.
When he pulls back, he has to slightly peel himself from Happy’s stomach, but he sure as heck isn’t complaining.
Fooling around wasn’t the first thing they did when they’d gotten back to the Tower after their “Training” session with the Exvengers. Before fucking around, Happy had insisted on cooking him something from his Mama’s recipe book in an effort to wine and dine him, but they hadn’t wasted much time after they’d flirted through doing the dishes together.
It was pretty readily apparent that they were as sexually compatible as they were romantically, and even though it’s only been a few days, Peter knows they’re gonna last.
And then, ‘cause he’d kinda hung up on James really abruptly, he leans forward and grabs his phone to call him back.
“James,” Peter greets, still out of breath. “Are we good to spar this afternoon?”
“Did you just have sex?” James demands, though it sounds a little too whiny to be serious. “Are you calling me after having sex?”
“Yes,” Peter says simply, smirking down at Happy when the man bursts out in a startled peal of beautiful laughter.
“That is so not cool, sugar. Here I am, all alone, while you ‘n your beefcake are gettin’ it on. Are you tryin’ to make me feel lonely?”
“Beefcake?” Happy whispers, and Peter sends him a wink.
“Is Wilson not around?” Peter asks innocently, and giggles when James starts stuttering across the line. “Listen, I’ll bring my boyfriend, you bring the boy you’re trying to get with, and we’ll put on a show for them both. How does that sound?”
Happy says, “So fuckin’ good,” at the same time as James says, “Yeah, that might actually work,” and Peter laughs at them both.
“Perfect. We’ll be there at 1,” Peter tells him, and runs a lazy finger through the mess of cooling come in the dip below Happy’s chest.
“Doll, that’s hours away,” James complains, and even though they’ve only seen each other once, Peter feels like he can picture it perfectly.
“Yeah, but I need Happy to get at least two more orgasms outta me first,” Peter says, his smile widening when Happy groans lowly. Then, he traces his come-coated finger across Happy’s bottom lip, his dick twitching.
“Goodbye, James,” Happy says gruffly, taking the phone and ending the call.
Then he flips Peter onto his back, hovering over him menacingly. “It’s not very nice to tease an old man like that, baby
Peter blinks up at him owlishly. He presses up for a slow, dirty kiss, tasting the mix of them, and pulls back enough to whisper against Happy’s lips, “But I wasn’t teasing you, Daddy. If you try extra hard, you could probably make it three.”
Happy growls, and then works him to four.