shieldborne | Negotiations (for buildsomething)

His back and his chest are his major weak points, the former slightly more than the latter. It might be psychological; his spine and his heart were very real frail points in his body before Project Rebirth shaped him into what he is now. Something in him remembers.

His breathing is deep, picking up gradually, and he gives a little twitch when Tony hits a ticklish spot on his spine, grinning against his neck. His own hands sweep up and down Tony's back and sides, smoothing and exploring. "What's that s'posed to mean? Good for the ego."

He could tell Tony his ego doesn't need stroking, but he definitely doesn't want to discourage him from what he seems to be up to. He gasps at the much-needed pressure against his groin, nods against his neck, and curls his hands against Tony's hips. "...fuck, Tony. Yeah. That's good. More?"

He nips his neck and shoulder again, having been given greater access, and he's a little more forceful this time, sucking small bruises into his skin.

He wants to laugh again, but it comes out more as a moan as Steve starts in on his neck. Tony gives a little shiver of his own at every bite and tips his head back, eyes sliding closed. Trust Steve to be able to zero in on his sensitive spots just as easily.

Not that it stops Tony's hand from moving, tracing almost too lightly over the warm, hard line of Steve's cock. He gives him as much contact as he can, moulding his hand around him as it slides gently up and down.

"What else do you want, hm?" It's low and teasing and all heat.

Oh, there we go. It's not the same vulnerability that Steve was enjoying the night before, but it's still a show of softness, of a kind. Between that and the almost-tease of Tony's hand on Steve's erection, he's getting quite eager, quite quickly.

He also seems interested in exploring as much of Tony's exposed skin as possible, with his mouth. His attention is getting more determined, leaving a few little bite marks here and there, moving up his throat, nuzzling and nibbling at his ears, and then back down to his chest. His breath is hot and light and shallow.

"Too many things," he answers, softly, breathily, on the edge of hearing. "Want to suck you and then bend you over the table; but I want you to keep stroking me like that, too. Or maybe have you sit in my lap...what about you, hm? You want more, too? Want me?"

The sound Tony makes is a low hum of agreement, starting deep in his throat. He makes himself lift his head back up, his own dark eyes gone completely black when he opens them to grin at Steve.

"I'll take one of everything," he says, voice roughening under all the attention. And, frankly, just having Steve talk dirty at him would get him plenty going all on it's own. He's going to have to explore that some time. "But if you're asking specifics, it would be a shame not to get my mouth on you."

The hand on his cock squeezes gently, just to make the point extra clear. Tony likes to be direct, occasionally. "We'll just have to make a list and work our way through it." They both do seem to like lists, after all.

Dirty talk isn't exactly Steve's forte, and he'd be the first to admit it, but he's not above giving it a whirl, and when he sees the look in Tony's eyes, he's glad he did. God, but he loves the way he's looking at him right now. Maybe Steve craves attention, in his own way; being admired as Captain America doesn't do much for him, but having Tony stare him down like he wants to devour him whole, oh, that's more than good. His cock twitches under the touch he's getting, and he inhales sharply through his teeth at the extra pressure.

"Item one on the list is gonna be clothes off," he asserts, and moves to finish the process Tony has begun, kicking off his shoes and sliding pants and underwear down his hips and off. Unlike with his shirt, he doesn't even consider trying to fold his pants, and that says something about his state of mind.

He's certainly...proportionate. Although Tony has no doubt figured that out by touch at this point. Once undressed, Steve seems a little emboldened, reaching to slide his hands up Tony's thighs and to his button and zip. "Y'got an oral fixation, Tony?" He teases faintly, voice husky. "I'm not too much of a gentleman to say yes to a blow job."

"I'd hope not," Tony says in a tone that's nearly a purr, eyes glinting. Now that there are no clothes in the way, he wraps his hand entirely around Steve's cock and gives it one long stroke. He can't help wanting to tease. In part because they have the time and he can, but Tony's not going to deny that there's something incendiary about the idea of getting this man to fall apart for him. Because of him.

He's wanted to muss Steve up since the beginning. This just seems like a whole lot more fun than getting into fights, even if he still had that urge to pick them.

As Steve's hands reach his pants, he arches his hips shamelessly against them. Actually getting out of them is going to be a challenge with Tony sitting like this, Steve pressed up against him, but they're clever guys. They can work something out.

The noise he gets out of Steve is fairly impressive. Not just a moan or a whimper, there's something almost animal in it, low and strained and hungry. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment; whether Tony's hands are teasing or not, it looks like Steve is struggling to maintain control already.

"Son of a bitch," he murmurs faintly; not an insult addressed at Tony so much as an observation on current events in general. He's not sure whether he's more surprised by how quickly they jumped to here from where they were, or how long it took for them to decide to try this. "Harder. You're not gonna break it."

He's somewhat lacking in finesse as he undoes Tony's pants, but he's not so clumsy he's going to cause him any injuries. And here, he pauses a moment to rub the heel of his hand against his cock, soft like he's just trying to get acquainted.

Then his patience goes elsewhere and he puts a hand on the other man's upper chest, pushing him back and down onto the table as he moves from between his legs. There, that'll make it easier to finish undressing him.

In the process of leaning in to see if he could try to coax more of those sounds out of Steve, or at least more cursing, Tony instead finds himself letting out a startled laugh as he's shoved back. He just wriggles to make himself comfortable, though, grinning up at Steve as he arches his hips off the surface to shove his pants and underwear down and off.

"Well?" He says as he settles himself back down, spread out on his own worktable. It's nothing he expected with Steve, though it is perilously close to more than a few fantasies he's had. There's more than one way to drive someone out of their mind, anyway. "You've got me here. Now what?"

He helps pull Tony's clothes off, maybe a little more roughly than necessary, eyes focused on the arch of his hips and the way it makes his muscles tense and relax. Later on, he won't remember where he's let Tony's jeans and underwear fall to the floor. The sight in front of him is too interesting to be diverted from.

"No planning," he tells him in a low, husky voice, and smirks a little. "But I think you're gonna get your wish a little later."

He didn't really have any particular idea or need to get him flat on the workbench, beyond stripping his clothes off, but now that he's there, it'd be dumb not to enjoy it. He rests the heels of his hands against Tony's hips and slides them up his body, only to run his nails back down the same path, attending to as much skin as the spread of his hands can reach. After a couple passes, he moves in again, gripping Tony's thighs and tugging gently, pulling him up and coaxing him to wrap his legs around Steve's shoulders. One arm goes under his lower back in support, because the net result has his body half raised off the surface.

"Y'might want to hold on a little," he suggests mildly.

Tony would roll his eyes at having his own words thrown back at him, but then he's too busy being manhandled to remember why he should care. He does at least manage a teasing grin as he drapes his legs over Steve's shoulders.

"That a promise or a threat?" He asks as he reaches over his head to grab the far side of the table. It pulls his entire body into one taught line, which seems to have been the idea if the smirk that flashes across his mouth is any indication. Tony wriggles just a little more, bracing himself on his shoulders and Steve's arm before he settles into something like anticipation.

He's pretty sure he knows where this is going. And he can't look away from Steve's face, bracketed between his own thighs.

"Fuck if I know, Tony," he laughs, watching with open admiration at he stretches out for him. "I really am winging it right now."

It seems to be working out well so far, though. Steve isn't sure he's ever had a guy wrap his legs around his neck and shoulders except in the context of a hold during sparring (so, not naked), but he's liking the view. He looks smug, almost catlike as he lets his eyes drift half-closed and rubs his jaw along Tony's inner thigh, moving slowly up to his groin.

He strokes his abdomen lazily with his free hand for a moment, then takes hold of his cock, stroking softly. Meanwhile, he keeps his mouth occupied, giving him a few somewhat sloppy, open-mouthed kisses at the base.

The muscle in his thigh twitches as Steve teases at it -- so Captain America does have stubble sometimes, who knew -- and Tony almost wants to laugh. But then there's a hand on his cock and Steve's warm mouth almost where he wants it and Tony's a bit too busy shifting restlessly under the touch.

He makes a low sound and lifts his hips into the stroke of Steve's hand, fighting the urge to let his head fall back. He wants to watch this, wants to be able to see Steve's gorgeous face and pleased grin and the big hand working over his cock. Tony can feel himself starting to breathe faster, and they've barely even started.

"Guess I won't ask if you're just going to tease me, then," he manages, sounding more than a little breathless. "But if you're in the mood for suggestions..."

He has a little stubble. His hair tends to be on the fine, pale side, but it grows at about the rate any guy's does. Which is fortunate. His metabolism is theoretically four times as fast as a normal man's, give or take. If his hair grew at that rate, he's never be able to be clean shaven for more than a couple hours.

Steve mouths and licks lazily, using his hand to spread the wetness. His eyes drift closed for a moment as he works his way to the head of Tony's cock and brushes his lips against it suggestively. He looks like he's enjoying himself very much, just like this.

His eyes are very dark when he opens them again to look down at Tony. "I could tease you," he says. "But not just. I'm open to requests, go on..."

Ultimately, Steve is not that great at teasing. He'd rather go for multiple rounds than pleasure delay or denial. Maybe that's a facet of his general recklessness. Still, he's at least capable of not rushing either of them, and he pauses both licking and stroking to give Tony a chance to answer.

There's a moment of breathless anticipation that pulls a low sound from Tony as Steve's mouth smooths against the tip of his cock...and then Steve pulls his head away. The sound Tony's making turns a little more frustrated as he slumps back against the table.

"Well," he says as he licks his lips to wet them and tries to pull himself back together a little. "You could get on with it. Just saying."

It's not his best work, but he's harder than he can remember being and Steve is still looking at him like that, and it's getting steadily harder to think. He can't help but arch just a little, like he's trying to get contact back any way he can.

"Come on, do you want me to say please?"

"Nuh-uh," he grins. "But I want you to say my name when you get close. Say it like you mean it."

He gives one last teasing lick, a blend of hunger and affection sparkling in his eyes. "And consider whether you can manage more than one round tonight, mm?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. Tony's expression and voice are relatively calm and even, but his body language is screaming that he's past ready for more. So is Steve, for that matter. He's still not rushing, though, wrapping his lips around the head of his cock and suckling gently for a few seconds before taking more of him in.

He does this like it's a pleasure in itself, savoring the heat and sensation in his mouth, and watching the other man's reactions with hooded eyes.

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.

Steve doesn't want to look away from Tony's face. The expression he's got, the flush, the desperate excitement; the whole picture sends a thrill of uncomplicated joy through him. There is so little in their lives that does that.

He's got his right hand curled around the base of Tony's erection still, but as he bobs his head and takes more and more of him down, he moves to stroke his hip and abdomen instead. He fancies he can feel the muscles quivering, tense beneath his fingers.

His eyes fall completely shut for a moment as he moans, the timbre and pitch just low enough to thrum against the cock in his mouth. He can't smile while he's occupied with this--at least not with his mouth--but he sort of wants to.

It's the vibration that finally makes Tony throw his head back, his eyes slamming closed as he just lets himself feel it. There's so much of it, the mouth on his cock and the hands on his skin and Tony's brain scrambles every time he tries to just focus on one thing. Eventually he just gives up and lets it happen, panting out quick little breaths when he remembers to take them.

Letting go of that last little bit of control seems to relax something in him. He's still drawn wire tight, twitching restlessly under Steve's hands, but the tension he almost always carries is just gone. He's not trying to put on a show or make a point, he's just lying there and appreciating every sensation that Steve pulls out of him.

Steve can feel the shift as he throws his head back, and he opens his eyes again, looking at Tony. He looks like he's drowning in it, carried away in sensation, and it's one of the more beautiful pictures Steve has ever seen. He makes another little sound, less deliberate, more of a whimper of approval than a hum, and his hand skims the planes of muscle and bone across Tony's hips and belly.

He's trying to go slow, but it's easy to get carried away with this kind of encouragement. He bobs his head again, pulls back slowly with a slick, wet noise, and then sinks down again with a sigh. There is no rush here. He could happily keep this up for a long while, maybe even longer than Tony could take.

His one major regret is he can't talk to him while his mouth is this occupied. But maybe that's for the best. They can let physical reactions speak for the both of them.

His muscles flex under Steve's touch as Tony can't help but arch up a little into his mouth like he's chasing more sensation. What little brain power he has left is dedicated to making sure he doesn't go too far, but he can't not move. The table creaks slightly as he grips the edge tighter, holding on as if it's the only thing keeping him in place.

And whether or not he remembers it being requested, Tony finds himself groaning out, "Steve," and then trailing off like he's not actually sure what he's asking for. The next sound is a lot more incoherent, just a rumbling noise that goes even lower as Steve's mouth sinks back down on him.

He has to pause for just a second, for that, pulling off of him slowly with a soft cough and licking his lips. "Yeah...That's exactly what I wanna hear, Tony. Tell me you like it."

This time as he goes down on him, Steve leans forward, letting Tony rest fully on the table so he can have both hands free to hold onto his hips. His throat works a little as he makes himself relax enough to take him all the way down, breathing through his nose. His grasp on Tony's hips is strong; maybe just this side of too strong. He may leave some light bruising if he's not careful. And he's not being especially careful at the moment, far too wrapped up in the scent and the pulse and the sound of Tony's voice rumbling in his chest.

Just as much as that, though, he's caught up in his own physical sensations, because he can't remember ever being this turned on just by giving head. It aches, and he's not about to rut against a chilly worktable, but he's testing his own patience.

And like it's flipped a switch, Tony can't seem to stop talking, even if it's mostly a serious of breathless swears with Steve's name mixed in every so often. He doesn't seem to realize he's doing it, head still thrown back and eyes tightly closed.

And then Steve's hands settle on his hips and press him into the table. It's almost that grip as much as the wet heat surrounding his cock that makes all of Tony's words trail off into a sound so low and rough that it's almost inhuman. One that somehow goes even lower as Tony tries to buck his hips up and can't, then chokes off entirely as Tony flexes to feel the strength pressing back against him.

It's all he can do to try and gasp out a warning, hopefully understandable, that he's reached the absolute limit of his control. But maybe the way every muscle in his body locks up is just as clear.

Tony doesn't have to be coherent; in fact, it's telling that he's not stringing full sentences together. Just hearing his own name gasped out and moaned like that is more than enough for Steve. He's struck by a fit of sudden, aggressive affection; he wants to just hold onto this man and curl his body around him and hold on, rock and stroke him through the throes of pleasure he's hearing. Pin him down and cover him with his own body and shield him from within and without.

Something clicks--something which he will analyze later, when he can think more clearly--because he can hear and feel Tony's reaction when he tries to push against Steve's powerful grip and fails to budge it. He can sense that's a catalyst that's pushed him past the point of no return, and at the moment why that doesn't matter.

Steve gives a softer, lighter groan in return, swallowing around Tony with no sign of objecting to it. Rather, he lifts his eyes up again to look at the man's face as he comes, tapering off the intensity of his attention to draw the spasms out as long as he possibly can.

He might lose track of time for a little while as the orgasm slams over him, completely swept away by just how overwhelming it is. There's nothing but wave after wave of pure sensation and Tony just lets it happen, lets himself do nothing but feel it.

When he finally starts to come back to himself, he's gone as boneless as he was tense a few moments ago. His arms are still over his head but the tension is gone, like he couldn't do more than just let them flop there. His entire body is still shuddering occasionally, muscles twitching like they're not sure what to do with themselves.

Tony hasn't felt this good in years.

It takes a moment or so for him to find his voice, and it's rough when he finally manages to murmur, "jesus christ."

Steve releases him slowly with a couple borderline-pornographic noises. He rolls his own shoulders and neck a little, smiling with a blend of smug contentment and tenderness, and gradually moves his hands to stroke the other man's thighs. A little messy, he wipes the back of his wrist across his mouth, licks his teeth.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," he says, and it sounds just as insufferable as Tony might have expected. Like he's just won something. Except then his eyes go soft and warm again, and he nuzzles the inside of Tony's knee.

"You okay? Not too cold? God, you make great noises. I want to do that again. Often." Uh, but not right away. Neither of them is quite up for that so soon, he figures.

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