In Your Hands
Story Info
Title: In Your Hands
Author: Del Rion (delrion.mail (at) gmail.com)
Fandom: Iron Man & Captain America (MCU)
Genre: Erotica
Rating: MA / FRAO
Characters: Steve Rogers (Captain America), Tony Stark
Pairing: Steve/Tony
Summary: The Fourth of July. Steve’s hand in his - and then in his pants. Tony’s life could be worse.
Complete.
Written for: My card on Love Bingo’s (love-bingo) Round 3 (square: “Can’t take my eyes off of you”)
Warnings: M/M sexual content (handjob, blowjob).
Disclaimer: Iron Man and Captain America, their characters and everything else belong to Marvel. The movie versions belong to Marvel Studios, Jon Favreau, Joe Johnston, Paramount Pictures… in short: everyone but me. This is pure fiction, created to entertain likeminded fans, no profit made.
Beta: Mythra (mythras-fire)
Feedback: Very welcome.
About In Your Hands: I can admit this was inspired by Family Guy’s episode “Total Recall”.
I have no shame.
Neither does a 16-year-old Tony Stark.
Story and status: Below you see the writing process of the story. If there is no text after the title, then it is finished and checked. Possible updates shall be marked after the title.
In Your Hands
~ ~ ~
Written for my card on Love Bingo’s (love-bingo) Round 3. Square: “Can’t take my eyes off of you”.
In Your Hands
It’s the Fourth of July. Everyone’s dressed to the nines, but no one manages to look as patriotic and like they belong as the man standing next to Tony on the field of green: Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America. The cowl of his uniform is pushed back, the blond hair perfectly parted and combed. Steve isn’t smiling, exactly, but he looks reasonably happy and proud to be here, today.
Tony can’t take his eyes off him.
Captain America could be described as ‘majestic’ as he stands at attention; like that’s the natural way for him to be. Most people look rigid and as if their muscles are complaining more and more each second, but not Steve: he looks relaxed and completely at ease, arms at his sides, fingers just slightly curled, and Tony has a sudden temptation to slip his hand into the other man’s.
The flag’s been hoisted, the national anthem sung, and people are starting to move towards the pavilion on the far side of the park for some refreshments, food, idle chatter, perhaps some embarrassing game of baseball between people who have barely touched sports gear since their school years, and much later, some kick-ass fireworks that everyone here is too snobby to get truly excited about.
Steve stands still, and Tony opts to stand with him, looking at the flag lazily flapping in the wind. It’s a perfect day, with the sun out and not too much wind; a perfect day to stand beside the perfect specimen of mankind and try to mooch off the aura that rests heavily around America’s first super-soldier.
Tony’s so obsessed with his thoughts that he almost starts when fingers touch his; they’re gloved, the material worn yet still strong against his bare skin, and the strong fingers slip into the cocoon formed by Tony’s hand. Tony doesn’t dare to look down, to break the moment, and he’s sweating a little, yet Steve made the first move and have they ever really talked to each other? Sure, Tony’s dad knows Steve, from back in the war… Not that Steve looks a day older than he does in the promotional posters Howard Stark still has lying around - and one that Tony has in his room back home.
That super-soldier serum was the best thing to ever happen to the world, and now, Tony.
Feeling a sudden boldness take over, unable to forget that he’s holding Captain America’s hand in his, Tony shifts their linked arms, and brings them towards his groin, pressing inwards, and there: it’s magical how good Steve’s hand feels pressing against his crotch, because Tony’s been hard ever since he felt the whisper of Steve’s glove against his fingertips, and it’s only fair that the other man know that.
From the corner of his eye, Tony thinks he spies a small smile curving Steve’s lips. Not a smile that just anyone could see, but Tony’s been studying his face since he was a child. He understands little about art, doesn’t care for it, but he understands Captain America and every inch of his perfect body.
Steve’s hand shifts, and for one terrible second Tony thinks it’s all over - this moment and his life with it - but Steve merely turns his hand around and presses back to cup Tony’s groin more firmly. His fingers are insanely strong, even through Tony’s dress pants, squeezing him, cock and balls, all in one firm grip, and if he had no control, he might come right then.
Tony struggles to breathe evenly, his hand still holding onto Steve’s, maybe a bit too tightly; he doesn’t want to accidentally signal he wants this to end, because he most certainly does not.
So far, no one has seemed to notice they didn’t follow the crowd. Tony really doesn’t care about that as Steve’s hand massages between his legs, and Tony is going to soil the inside of his pants any minute now if he keeps that up.
Captain America is the man with the plan, however, and suddenly Steve is undoing Tony’s pants, right there in the middle of the field, and Tony has never been so relieved. He just stares, eyes huge, as Steve continues to stroke his cock, and the material of the glove drags deliciously, not hurting at all, and Tony really wants to throw his head back and ride the fist but he doesn’t want to stop looking, because it might end the magical moment.
He doesn’t dare to say a word, either - not even when Steve leans a bit closer, a smile definitely on the beautiful curve of his lips, and kisses the corner of Tony’s mouth, then moves around and in front of him, kneeling in the perfectly green grass, the uniform hugging his wide chest.
Tony just stares, meeting the blue eyes that keep on smiling at him as Steve’s hand shifts, fingers curling around Tony’s balls as his mouth takes his cock in, almost all the way, and heat curls in Tony’s stomach, spreading all over him, and he still can’t take his eyes off Steve, doesn’t want to think about what will come after, because there is nothing ‘after’ this perfect moment - nothing that matters, anyway.
His cock is so wet and Steve’s mouth is just as perfect as the rest of him, and his fingers squeeze, just a little, making Tony groan.
“Stark!”
Tony started as something landed against his face and he blinked his eyes open, heaving for air.
His roommate stood in the doorway, clearly on his way out, giving him a lopsided, dirty grin. “Put a lid on it, will you?” Then he was gone, shutting the door, and Tony lay alone in the dorm room, a raging boner in his lap, and he couldn’t believe someone had dared to wake him up from dreaming such a perfect dream.
He allowed his head to fall back on the pillows and shifted a little, then slid a hand down to finish himself off, regardless of the mess he would make. It only took about ten pulls and he was done, trying to recapture the field, and Captain America’s perfect posture right before he knelt in front of him.
After he was done, Tony stretched, considering skipping his first class in favor of lying in bed. It wasn’t as if he needed to attend that lecture, and he could work on the programming of his robot project once he ran out of excuses to stay in bed.
As it was, he stretched out his foot, as far as he could, and toed open the door of his closet. “Hey there, Cap,” he greeted playfully, toothy grin matched by toothy grin of the playful salute on a poster of Captain America hanging on the inside of the door.
The End
Title: In Your Hands
Author: Del Rion (delrion.mail (at) gmail.com)
Fandom: Iron Man & Captain America (MCU)
Genre: Erotica
Rating: MA / FRAO
Characters: Steve Rogers (Captain America), Tony Stark
Pairing: Steve/Tony
Summary: The Fourth of July. Steve’s hand in his - and then in his pants. Tony’s life could be worse.
Complete.
Written for: My card on Love Bingo’s (love-bingo) Round 3 (square: “Can’t take my eyes off of you”)
Warnings: M/M sexual content (handjob, blowjob).
Disclaimer: Iron Man and Captain America, their characters and everything else belong to Marvel. The movie versions belong to Marvel Studios, Jon Favreau, Joe Johnston, Paramount Pictures… in short: everyone but me. This is pure fiction, created to entertain likeminded fans, no profit made.
Beta: Mythra (mythras-fire)
Feedback: Very welcome.
About In Your Hands: I can admit this was inspired by Family Guy’s episode “Total Recall”.
I have no shame.
Neither does a 16-year-old Tony Stark.
Story and status: Below you see the writing process of the story. If there is no text after the title, then it is finished and checked. Possible updates shall be marked after the title.
In Your Hands
~ ~ ~
Written for my card on Love Bingo’s (love-bingo) Round 3. Square: “Can’t take my eyes off of you”.
In Your Hands
It’s the Fourth of July. Everyone’s dressed to the nines, but no one manages to look as patriotic and like they belong as the man standing next to Tony on the field of green: Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America. The cowl of his uniform is pushed back, the blond hair perfectly parted and combed. Steve isn’t smiling, exactly, but he looks reasonably happy and proud to be here, today.
Tony can’t take his eyes off him.
Captain America could be described as ‘majestic’ as he stands at attention; like that’s the natural way for him to be. Most people look rigid and as if their muscles are complaining more and more each second, but not Steve: he looks relaxed and completely at ease, arms at his sides, fingers just slightly curled, and Tony has a sudden temptation to slip his hand into the other man’s.
The flag’s been hoisted, the national anthem sung, and people are starting to move towards the pavilion on the far side of the park for some refreshments, food, idle chatter, perhaps some embarrassing game of baseball between people who have barely touched sports gear since their school years, and much later, some kick-ass fireworks that everyone here is too snobby to get truly excited about.
Steve stands still, and Tony opts to stand with him, looking at the flag lazily flapping in the wind. It’s a perfect day, with the sun out and not too much wind; a perfect day to stand beside the perfect specimen of mankind and try to mooch off the aura that rests heavily around America’s first super-soldier.
Tony’s so obsessed with his thoughts that he almost starts when fingers touch his; they’re gloved, the material worn yet still strong against his bare skin, and the strong fingers slip into the cocoon formed by Tony’s hand. Tony doesn’t dare to look down, to break the moment, and he’s sweating a little, yet Steve made the first move and have they ever really talked to each other? Sure, Tony’s dad knows Steve, from back in the war… Not that Steve looks a day older than he does in the promotional posters Howard Stark still has lying around - and one that Tony has in his room back home.
That super-soldier serum was the best thing to ever happen to the world, and now, Tony.
Feeling a sudden boldness take over, unable to forget that he’s holding Captain America’s hand in his, Tony shifts their linked arms, and brings them towards his groin, pressing inwards, and there: it’s magical how good Steve’s hand feels pressing against his crotch, because Tony’s been hard ever since he felt the whisper of Steve’s glove against his fingertips, and it’s only fair that the other man know that.
From the corner of his eye, Tony thinks he spies a small smile curving Steve’s lips. Not a smile that just anyone could see, but Tony’s been studying his face since he was a child. He understands little about art, doesn’t care for it, but he understands Captain America and every inch of his perfect body.
Steve’s hand shifts, and for one terrible second Tony thinks it’s all over - this moment and his life with it - but Steve merely turns his hand around and presses back to cup Tony’s groin more firmly. His fingers are insanely strong, even through Tony’s dress pants, squeezing him, cock and balls, all in one firm grip, and if he had no control, he might come right then.
Tony struggles to breathe evenly, his hand still holding onto Steve’s, maybe a bit too tightly; he doesn’t want to accidentally signal he wants this to end, because he most certainly does not.
So far, no one has seemed to notice they didn’t follow the crowd. Tony really doesn’t care about that as Steve’s hand massages between his legs, and Tony is going to soil the inside of his pants any minute now if he keeps that up.
Captain America is the man with the plan, however, and suddenly Steve is undoing Tony’s pants, right there in the middle of the field, and Tony has never been so relieved. He just stares, eyes huge, as Steve continues to stroke his cock, and the material of the glove drags deliciously, not hurting at all, and Tony really wants to throw his head back and ride the fist but he doesn’t want to stop looking, because it might end the magical moment.
He doesn’t dare to say a word, either - not even when Steve leans a bit closer, a smile definitely on the beautiful curve of his lips, and kisses the corner of Tony’s mouth, then moves around and in front of him, kneeling in the perfectly green grass, the uniform hugging his wide chest.
Tony just stares, meeting the blue eyes that keep on smiling at him as Steve’s hand shifts, fingers curling around Tony’s balls as his mouth takes his cock in, almost all the way, and heat curls in Tony’s stomach, spreading all over him, and he still can’t take his eyes off Steve, doesn’t want to think about what will come after, because there is nothing ‘after’ this perfect moment - nothing that matters, anyway.
His cock is so wet and Steve’s mouth is just as perfect as the rest of him, and his fingers squeeze, just a little, making Tony groan.
“Stark!”
Tony started as something landed against his face and he blinked his eyes open, heaving for air.
His roommate stood in the doorway, clearly on his way out, giving him a lopsided, dirty grin. “Put a lid on it, will you?” Then he was gone, shutting the door, and Tony lay alone in the dorm room, a raging boner in his lap, and he couldn’t believe someone had dared to wake him up from dreaming such a perfect dream.
He allowed his head to fall back on the pillows and shifted a little, then slid a hand down to finish himself off, regardless of the mess he would make. It only took about ten pulls and he was done, trying to recapture the field, and Captain America’s perfect posture right before he knelt in front of him.
After he was done, Tony stretched, considering skipping his first class in favor of lying in bed. It wasn’t as if he needed to attend that lecture, and he could work on the programming of his robot project once he ran out of excuses to stay in bed.
As it was, he stretched out his foot, as far as he could, and toed open the door of his closet. “Hey there, Cap,” he greeted playfully, toothy grin matched by toothy grin of the playful salute on a poster of Captain America hanging on the inside of the door.
The End