Oral Exercise
Story Info
Title: Oral Exercise
Author: Del Rion (delrion.mail (at) gmail.com)
Fandom: The Avengers (MCU)
Genre: Erotica
Rating: M / FRM
Characters: Steve Rogers (Captain America), Tony Stark (Iron Man)
Pairing: Steve/Tony
Summary: Steve tries his hand at the teasing game - or rather, his oral skills. Tony appreciates it more than he’s willing to admit.
Complete.
Written for: My card on Kink Bingo’s Round 6 (square: “teasing”)
Warnings: A couple profanities and spoken description of M/M sexual situation/foreplay.
Disclaimer: Iron Man, Avengers and Marvel Cinematic Universe, including characters and everything else, belong to Marvel, Marvel Studios, Jon Favreau, Joss Whedon, Shane Black, Joe Johnston, Paramount Pictures and Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures. In short: I own nothing; this is pure fiction created to entertain likeminded fans for no profit whatsoever.
Beta: Mythra (mythras-fire)
About Oral Exercise: A dialogue/descriptive exercise (plus getting to show that Captain Rogers can talk dirty when he wants to - or, just, you know, give a thorough summary…). I hope you enjoy. (Also, I’m pretty sure this counts as teasing the audience, too…)
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.
Oral Exercise
~ ~ ~
Oral Exercise
“The lights are on low, reduced to bright spotlights around the workshop, giving everything a pleasant, ethereal look.
“You enter, wearing that black top you like. The lighting accentuates the tan of your skin with a faint, bronze glow, drawing shadows along the work-honed muscles of your arms.
“You’re wearing the pants that you wear under the armor sometimes; they hug your body, from waist to thigh, leaving nothing to the imagination of the gentle curve of your hips and your firm yet surprisingly full ass.
“There’s a cup of coffee in your hand, steaming hot, but you keep trying to sip from it, too eager to drink it down even when it’s clearly burning your mouth. You’re so focused on not spilling any of the coffee that you don’t notice me at first, leaning against the hood of the classic car you’ve been fixing up for the past few days.
“When you do notice me, I can tell you are tempted to make a joke of how the car and I come from the same era, but the words die in your throat as your eyes check my crotch; you can see I’m hard, standing there, waiting for you.
“I can see the second when the cup of coffee in your hands becomes immaterial; I can almost hear your breaths change, subtly affected by my presence. I wish I could feel the heat of your skin, which is surely rising in expectation - and excitement.
“Pulling away from the car, I walk over to you. With every step you almost vibrate, eyes tracking my every motion; I can see hope and dread on your face as you calculate the odds, wishing for some things to happen while dismissing other ideas based on my every move. You seem more hopeful the closer I get, and when I take the coffee cup from your grip, you gasp faintly as our fingers touch. It’s like electricity and heat, all bound to one, and I discard the cup on the nearest flat surface, greedy for more of you.
“My hands reach for you next, cradling your face. My mouth is a swift runner-up, staking a claim on your lips. I try to show you how much my body wants yours; I try every trick I’ve learned - most of them from you - from dirty and slow to something that is pure passion, with my fingers sinking into your hair and my body so close, yet not close enough.
“When it becomes necessary to draw apart for air, your eyes have gone dark. I love it when that happens, accompanied by the hitch in your breathing you cannot hide when you get truly excited. I run my fingers down your face, your neck, then down and up your arms, tracing your skin with just a hint of nail. I feel you tremble at the sensation and your breaths are audible in my ears, tightening my own passion as it pools between my legs.
“I trace my fingers down your body, this time along your chest and sides, your clothes a barrier between our skins that neither of us likes. I lower my hands to the hem of your top, yank it up, and you barely have time to lift your arms to help me discard it. You grow bold, afterwards, placing your hands on my shoulders, trying to draw me in for another kiss, but I dodge lower, opening my mouth and dragging my tongue down the center of your chest that is now smooth, unscarred… Your fingers tighten in my hair when I suck and nip on your skin, moving to your nipples, one at a time, lavishing them with attention before I move on, further down your body.
“My hands slide down your back, from shoulders to your spine and further down until I reach the edge of your pants. I can’t resist squeezing your ass, hard - knowing how much you like it. I hear your groan - then moan as my mouth moves from the skin of your stomach to the front of your pants, my teeth biting down carefully on your hardening cock.
“I -”
“Are you done?”
“No.”
A groan.
“At least let me unfasten my pants.”
“Not before I’m done with my story.”
“You’ll be the death of me…”
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I never pegged you for a tease, Rogers.”
“You tease me all the time; it’s only fair I get to return the favor.”
Another groan.
The End
Title: Oral Exercise
Author: Del Rion (delrion.mail (at) gmail.com)
Fandom: The Avengers (MCU)
Genre: Erotica
Rating: M / FRM
Characters: Steve Rogers (Captain America), Tony Stark (Iron Man)
Pairing: Steve/Tony
Summary: Steve tries his hand at the teasing game - or rather, his oral skills. Tony appreciates it more than he’s willing to admit.
Complete.
Written for: My card on Kink Bingo’s Round 6 (square: “teasing”)
Warnings: A couple profanities and spoken description of M/M sexual situation/foreplay.
Disclaimer: Iron Man, Avengers and Marvel Cinematic Universe, including characters and everything else, belong to Marvel, Marvel Studios, Jon Favreau, Joss Whedon, Shane Black, Joe Johnston, Paramount Pictures and Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures. In short: I own nothing; this is pure fiction created to entertain likeminded fans for no profit whatsoever.
Beta: Mythra (mythras-fire)
About Oral Exercise: A dialogue/descriptive exercise (plus getting to show that Captain Rogers can talk dirty when he wants to - or, just, you know, give a thorough summary…). I hope you enjoy. (Also, I’m pretty sure this counts as teasing the audience, too…)
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.
Oral Exercise
~ ~ ~
Oral Exercise
“The lights are on low, reduced to bright spotlights around the workshop, giving everything a pleasant, ethereal look.
“You enter, wearing that black top you like. The lighting accentuates the tan of your skin with a faint, bronze glow, drawing shadows along the work-honed muscles of your arms.
“You’re wearing the pants that you wear under the armor sometimes; they hug your body, from waist to thigh, leaving nothing to the imagination of the gentle curve of your hips and your firm yet surprisingly full ass.
“There’s a cup of coffee in your hand, steaming hot, but you keep trying to sip from it, too eager to drink it down even when it’s clearly burning your mouth. You’re so focused on not spilling any of the coffee that you don’t notice me at first, leaning against the hood of the classic car you’ve been fixing up for the past few days.
“When you do notice me, I can tell you are tempted to make a joke of how the car and I come from the same era, but the words die in your throat as your eyes check my crotch; you can see I’m hard, standing there, waiting for you.
“I can see the second when the cup of coffee in your hands becomes immaterial; I can almost hear your breaths change, subtly affected by my presence. I wish I could feel the heat of your skin, which is surely rising in expectation - and excitement.
“Pulling away from the car, I walk over to you. With every step you almost vibrate, eyes tracking my every motion; I can see hope and dread on your face as you calculate the odds, wishing for some things to happen while dismissing other ideas based on my every move. You seem more hopeful the closer I get, and when I take the coffee cup from your grip, you gasp faintly as our fingers touch. It’s like electricity and heat, all bound to one, and I discard the cup on the nearest flat surface, greedy for more of you.
“My hands reach for you next, cradling your face. My mouth is a swift runner-up, staking a claim on your lips. I try to show you how much my body wants yours; I try every trick I’ve learned - most of them from you - from dirty and slow to something that is pure passion, with my fingers sinking into your hair and my body so close, yet not close enough.
“When it becomes necessary to draw apart for air, your eyes have gone dark. I love it when that happens, accompanied by the hitch in your breathing you cannot hide when you get truly excited. I run my fingers down your face, your neck, then down and up your arms, tracing your skin with just a hint of nail. I feel you tremble at the sensation and your breaths are audible in my ears, tightening my own passion as it pools between my legs.
“I trace my fingers down your body, this time along your chest and sides, your clothes a barrier between our skins that neither of us likes. I lower my hands to the hem of your top, yank it up, and you barely have time to lift your arms to help me discard it. You grow bold, afterwards, placing your hands on my shoulders, trying to draw me in for another kiss, but I dodge lower, opening my mouth and dragging my tongue down the center of your chest that is now smooth, unscarred… Your fingers tighten in my hair when I suck and nip on your skin, moving to your nipples, one at a time, lavishing them with attention before I move on, further down your body.
“My hands slide down your back, from shoulders to your spine and further down until I reach the edge of your pants. I can’t resist squeezing your ass, hard - knowing how much you like it. I hear your groan - then moan as my mouth moves from the skin of your stomach to the front of your pants, my teeth biting down carefully on your hardening cock.
“I -”
“Are you done?”
“No.”
A groan.
“At least let me unfasten my pants.”
“Not before I’m done with my story.”
“You’ll be the death of me…”
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I never pegged you for a tease, Rogers.”
“You tease me all the time; it’s only fair I get to return the favor.”
Another groan.
The End