Tony's back bows as Steve finally puts his mouth on him, just barely managing to keep himself from rocking up into that wet heat. The building anticipation has somehow made it seem so much hotter, like this is the only thing he's ever wanted.

He stares back at Steve, eyes wide and pupils blown wide enough that it makes them look almost black. And he's already panting, the muscles in his arms tense from where he's gripping onto the table like it's the only thing holding him in place. He can't even consider the possibility of doing this again. He's not sure he'll survive it.

"Jesus," he finds himself saying, mouth on autopilot. It could be anything. He's too busy watching Steve's mouth.