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Heat and the Popsicle

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The weather was hot. Not the kind of hot that was enjoyable. Not the kind of hot under which clothes fell off passively, or the kind of hot where the sun-kissed skin of sun bathers lay carelessly on open fields. This kind of hot was the sticky, sweaty, unpleasant one. It was the same one that had forced the team to find themselves a hideaway spot for the time off: Clint Barton's farmland. The grass turned brown with the scorching sun nonetheless amongst the tall hay and whey were Bruce and Thor, bare backs on the warm, golden ground, pale faces looking up at a cloudy patch in the sapphire sky, squinting every time the sun blinded them.

Carefully covered with sun screen, a shiny Natasha lay on a cheap lounger. There were large, long angry red stripes on her skin from where the lounger's support dug in.

"You possibly can't be ignoring this weather." Clint said, strutting onto the porch from inside. He wiped both his wet hands on a towel clutched in between.

Natasha put down her phone on her stomach and looked over her shoulder to the porch. "I don't have time for play. None of you have made the strategy and the blueprints for Scott's mission." She turned back around and reached for her phone.

Clint squinted into the sun that poured in through the cracked roof. His eyes drifted to the right where far away from the other three were Steve and Tony.

Nestled against a crispy, golden stack of hay was Steve. The hay and his hair reflecting the same colour and glow, his hands sketched so ferociously that Clint was running out of pencils to supply him with. Tony on the other hand was sat cross legged on the dry grass. Half a blue popsicle that Steve had bought for him from the passing truck after much whining, stuck out of his mouth, his hands busy with a circular contraption and a screwdriver.
Sighing with exasperation, Clint flung the towel over his shoulder and walked back in to fix all the broken plumbing the kids had left him with.

"All too nice a weather to be sketching in, Cap." Tony mumbled, popsicle now held in one hand and the other wiped at a flowing drop of sweat on his forehead.
Steve didn't look up from his sketching pad. "I used to draw in this weather," he said. "When Bucky took his women driving, I loved staying behind on the lawn.. just sketching."

"Don't care." Tony spat. He sucked at the top of the popsicle, draining all the blue from it to plain ice.

"Why ask, then?" Steve dropped his pencil and looked up with a frown on face. His gaze drifted over the man who he regarded had the skin of a bronze god. An old joke that now got on his very own nerves. Tony's hair was sweaty and stuck to his forehead. Drops of sweat formed at his temples which he swatted away. "What are you doing?" Steve asked.

Tony raised an eyebrow, shoved the popsicle into his mouth entirely and picked up the circular device he had dropped earlier. "Fwughowff."


Tony didn't respond. His muscles flexed when he reached down for the screw driver and at the slight shift of the black strap of his tank, Steve noticed paler skin. He was getting tanned again. To what extent could Tony be fried to, he wondered.

"You're...uhh," Steve searched for words. He shamelessly gawked at what Tony was doing. What his innuendo was, however, did not show. Tony's tongue, now a shade of purple, flicked out to nip at the popsicle held in his hand. When his brown eyes caught Steve staring, he frowned. "What?"

Steve looked away. "Nothing..I..uhh," he searched again. "You're getting tanned I hope you know that.."

"Yeah, so?" Tony smirked and dropped the device back onto the grass. He pressed his lips to the sides of the popsicle, now the same shade of blue as Steve's eyes. "So?" He repeated the motion.
Steve couldn't stop looking. "Nothing. Forget I said anything." He balanced himself to stand up, pushing the sketching pad and the pencil under the stack of hay, where he often said "The heat will really bring out the shadows by the graphite". He stood up and started for the house. The white shirt clung onto his torso, redefining his muscles; refusing to let go. Tony's tease of being the "dorito" of the gang was getting old, too.

"Where are you going?"

"To cool off inside."

"Don't." Tony said, the remaining wooden stick of the popsicle was pressed tightly between his lips, moving everytime his tongue flicked against it. Steve licked his drying lips and insisted. "I'm going, Tony."

"Really?" Tony slowly pulled the stick out of his mouth and tossed it to the ground somewhere. His eyelids hung low and there was stray pollen in his hair and goatee. A bronze god, thought Steve. He looked towards the house once more, gulped, and walked towards the unanticipating Tony sat on the ground who he grabbed by the arm and yanked upwards.

The shorter man yelped and protested against Steve's sudden burst but couldn't overcome it. For the first few seconds, he was dragged along the grass, the next few, he cooperated.

"Shut up."

Tony pushed at Steve's hand but his grip was so strong that he was sure there would be an imprint of Steve's hand on Tony's biceps soon. He walked-ran under the Captain's grasp until he saw that he was being lead to behind a crippled stable.

"Steve, what are you doing?" Tony asked when Steve stopped and looked around. He wasn't met with a response. The stable was more like a poorly constructed shed made of asbestos and cheap alloys. There were holes in the metal where sunlight pierced through like fiery bullets, and golden hay encircled the structure.

"Steve," Tony said, looking around cautiously and trying to remove the man's grip. "Clint comes here to collect rubble for the fire.."

"So?" Steve turned towards him, hand still wrapped around his arm, blue eyes piercing into brown ones, a sullen, solemn expression on his face which could have meant a lot of things.

Tony didn't say anything. He suddenly felt more aware. Aware of the fact that Steve was way taller than him. That his head barely neared the man's shoulder blades and that he could be crushed easily like the roaches he does. Steve had ample reasons to hate Tony. "Did I piss you off?" He blurted, and a look of regret abrupty clouded his features.

Without another word, he yanked Tony forward and pressed his lips against Tony's moist ones. They stood with their lips locked in an awkward embrace for a strong few seconds before Tony kissed him back. His lips moved quietly with Steve's, and then they kissed with mild aggression; Steve growled into Tony's mouth when Tony wrapped his free arm around the larger man's neck, attempting to pull him closer.
Just as soon as it had started, the brunette pushed against Steve's chest and pulled back with eyes wide open and eyebrows arched with emotions Steve couldn't decode; fear? Lust? Joy?

"Steve, no," his hair was ruffled from Steve's hands that ran through. He wasn't sweating anymore. Nor was Steve.

"What 'no'?"

"No-not here," he replied. "I-"

Steve sushed him and they both listened to approaching footsteps. Breaths held and eyes wide. Natasha's flipflops. They clanked against the stone as though she was back in her black heels.

"Ah, fuck." She yelled. "NO SIGNAL HERE EITHER, CLINT."

Tony heard Clint call from afar and when they heard Natasha walk back around, they sighed and took in a deep breath.

"Tony," Steve whispered, chest heaving and palm pressed against the man's cheek. Not a few minutes ago did he think he would end up here. Didn't think his sense of urgency would lead him here.

He kissed Tony again, pushing him down with a steady palm on his chest. Tony didn't protest.
In a moment they were flat on the ground and when Tony's bare shoulders hit the hay covered ground, he winced at the scorching feeling and guided Steve forward until they were both locking lips, knees digging down onto the ground. Tony let a soft moan as he ran his sleek fingers down Steve's body. He had wanted to do this for a long time but until how long ago did he want to? They stopped short at Steve's waist and tugged at the belt earnestly. "Ste-"


Tony nested his face in the cusp of Steve's neck and breathed in his scent. Old Spice, he figured. Steve will never get over the 20th century.
His hands worked around his waist until he dropped Steve's pants low enough to free his cock. Nipping at Steve's blood rushed ears, he took it in his hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

"Agh-Tony...", Steve hissed and bucked into his hands. Tony leaned back and smirked at the man.

"Sorry, I-", he blushed. "You asked for this."

"Oh?" Tony smirked unforgivingly. "Did I? I was just," he gave Steve another squeeze which was returned with a heavy sigh. "-just eating a harmless popsicle."
"You're going to tease me again?" Steve asked, mouth gaping everytime Tony pressed against him.


He pressed small kisses along the blonde's jawline, sucking at the skin and sliding down slowly. Steve reached for the hem of his shirt but was stopped.

"No," Tony said. "This will be way hotter than what you expected." He lowered his kisses further down onto Steve's abdomen. His lips caressed the abs and he worked lower. Steve's flushed face turned a deeper shade of red as he put his arms behind him as support. "Tony.."

"Isn't this what you want?" He asked, going lower. "Isn't this what I think you want?" He moved a little further away from Steve's waist, brown eyes and raised eyebrows looked up at him, pouting. To Steve, he looked mesmerising. Tony Stark. Out of all people: Tony Stark was on all fours for him. "Sexualizing a popsicle, Cap, seriously?" He dipped his head down and wrapped his red lips around the leaking, purple tip of Steve's cock. He ran his tongue along the slit and pulled back. "Seriously, though?' He looked up again.

Steve frowned as his chest heaved. He closed his eyes, and sighed. "Christ, Tony, if you're going to torment me like this-ahh-"

Tony guided his cock in with his tongue and sucked on it. His hands rubbed at the base of Steve's cock, where it didn't fit into Tony's mouth until Steve watched him hollow his stubbled cheeks and take it all in.

"AH-FUCK, Tony-"

The brunette smirked and forced a playful hum that reverberated throughout Steve's body.

"Oh, Tony..."

He ran his tongue along the sides of Steve's cock, trying to cover every spot he could. When the tip hit the start of Tony's throat, Steve prayed it didn't hurt him. Instead, Tony seemed effortless. His head bobbed up and down, bruised lips leaving wet trails on his pale skin and façading them again.

"Tony-fuck, Tony, I knew you were good.."

Tony let a moan escape his lips and Steve shuddered again, moans getting breathier every time he neared it. He withdrew his mouth, sliding it up until it left contact with Steve with an indecent 'pop'. "Why were you so interested in that popsicle, I wonder."

Steve whined, his cock twitching at the exposure to cold air and lack of warmth of Tony's velvet mouth.

"Would you like me to treat you like that popsicle, Cap?"

"Shut up," Steve's face flushed.

He smirked again before sucking the tip of his cock, which was wet and shiny from precum and saliva. Hands on either side of Steve's legs, he lowered kisses onto the sides of his cock, kissed the base, licked and flicked his tongue along it, and returned to the tip. With every move he urged a sound from Steve, a sound or word so filthy that he worried that was all he would think of at night from then on.

He took his cock back into his mouth. Steve's breaths hitched and his back arched. "Tony!"
He threw his head back and cried his name again, and soon enough he was coming. Tony kept his pace dynamic even as Steve refilled his mouth. Eventually, he pulled away from Steve's cock, a string of cum and saliva filthily connecting them.

"Tony..." He breathed before collapsing forward to his knees. He looked at the man in front of him, lips bruised and swollen, hair tossled, the same smirk still work upon. He reached for Tony's face and wiped a drop of cum away from the corner of his mouth with his thumb before kissing him roughly, lips parting and tongues tangling, tasting himself on Tony's tongue.

Tony hummed and pulled away with a smack. He wiped at his mouth. "Well..." He looked at Steve, shirt practically transparent with sweat, eyes clouded with lust, cock still out but still not flaccid.

Blushing, Steve pulled the hem of his pants up and zipped quickly. He closed his eyes, frowned and scratched his head. "This didn't happen."


"I'm serious, Tony, nobody can know."

"They won't," he smiled. "But they will when you scream my name again tonight."


"You bring the popsicle."

Steve looked at him with a blank expression, laughed, and kissed him again. "Fuck's sake, Tony, enough with that-"

"Language." The brunette smirked through this kiss. In the distance, they heard Natasha and Clint distanty crying out for them.

"Don't worry, I bet he's buying Tony another popsicle. They'll be back by dinner."