Solo ART + Joosetta FIC: [Avengers] "Open for Suggestions" R-ish?
Title: "Open for Suggestions"
Rating: R-ish?
Fandom: Avengers
Characters/Pairing: Steve/Tony
Notes/Warnings: It's been well over a year since I've been able to produce anything at all, so I'm hoping this is a stepping stone in the right direction? It helps to have such wonderful, supportive friends. I couldn've have done this without you, sauce_gay and joosetta. Thank you, babies. ILUSM!
As an added bonus of awesomeness, joosetta has graciously gifted this piece with a companion fic! So, without further ado, grab a towel for your chair, and let's go check it out!
Steve could see that Stark was working on a serious combat high still, his skin was slick with sweat above the collar of his bodysuit. He looked like wanted another fight, like he had all this adrenaline and nowhere to put it. Steve kind of felt the same.
“You want to repeat that?” Stark said, dangerously. Yeah he wanted a fight, and here Steve was, giving it to him.
“I said, the next time you ignore one of my orders, you’re off the team,” the window was to Steve’s back, and behind it the city, all lit up with sirens and rolling floodlights. Clean up was going on out there. Inside, Stark Tower was dark, and Stark was part of that darkness, just his pale face and the glow of the arc reactor, picking out the smooth dark lines of the bodysuit, tight against corded muscle.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not your call,” Stark snapped, raising a finger. They’d dropped down onto the helipad, arguing even then. The suit had folded away into nowhere, and now it was just the two of them. Steve didn’t even have his shield. Stark was so angry; he was spitting mad, and Steve kind of wished he did have it.
“It is,” Steve fought hard not to step back. The windows were floor to ceiling. Manhattan was a long way down. “And even if it wasn’t, I won’t work with you if you keep ignoring my orders. Let’s go ask Fury who he wants, if it comes down to you or me.”
That one hurt, Steve could see it, and it gave him a mean little bit of pleasure. All day, every day, Stark was scoring all these little hits; capsicle, geriatric, boy scout, past his prime. It was nice to get in one of his own.
“You’d do that - all American hero, you’d freeze me out, knowing the team would be down one man, just because I don’t follow your bullshit orders?” Stark was moving forward, trapping Steve really. “You really are all hot fucking air, aren’t you?”
“If we can’t work together, then we’re worse than one man down,” Steve barked, backed up enough now that he could feel the cold of the glass just brush against his shoulders. “If we can’t work together, there’s no team at all!”
It wasn’t until he said it really, that Steve realized how true that was. He’d always known that he and Stark had a problem, that they rubbed each other up the wrong way. He’d not admitted how bad it really was though - he’d not realized how frustrated he was. He looked at Tony Stark and he didn’t have a damn clue how to deal with him. He didn’t know how he felt, he didn’t know why Stark got his blood up so much. He felt out of control and fevered and totally unlike himself.
Stark’s eyes were bright and his fists were clenched. The arc reactor threw enough light for Steve to see the angry tension in him.
“Whenever I spend any time with you, all I want to do is fight, all I want to do is wind you up,” Stark said eventually, sounding just about as confused and frustrated by it as Steve did. “What the hell am I supposed to do? I just don’t know how to get on with you.”
There had to be about a foot between them now, maybe less. The moment felt tight and brittle, and Steve didn’t want to say the wrong thing. He was afraid that this was perhaps their one moment to fix it, get it right.
“I’m open to suggestions,” Steve said. It didn’t come out the way he’d planned. He’d meant it to sound lighter, to draw tension from the whole confrontation. Instead it came out low, and quiet. Stark’s expression immediately changed, his eyes flickered down and then up again; became hooded.
“Here’s a suggestion,” Stark said, then kissed him.
It was just mouths at first; Stark didn’t raise his hands, he just took one step closer and pressed his lips to Steve’s. The shock of it made Steve jerk back, but the window was there, there was nowhere to go. The whole of Manhattan was out there; anyone could look up and see Iron Man kissing Captain America at the top of Stark Tower. Steve gasped and Stark opened his mouth, made the kiss wetter, deeper.
It was like getting an electric shock, like suddenly jerking awake from a dream, afraid that you might have been falling. Steve could feel his heart thudding too-fast in his chest and Stark was filthy; just his mouth and nothing else was enough to make all Steve’s blood feel hot and rushing.
“Ah,” Steve said, when Stark pulled back. He didn’t realize he was reaching out until he’d grabbed Stark and had him by the shoulders. The bodysuit really was thin, and he could feel muscles beneath it and warm skin.
“Thought so,” Stark said, hard and still a little angry. He shrugged out of Steve’s grip, then shoved forward, pushing Steve up against the glass hard. He kissed him again, and it was so much better and so much worse because they were pressed together completely, the arc reactor pressing hard against Steve’s chest. Steve was hard. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever been so hard.
Such a bad idea. Steve’s head seemed to be stuck on that. Such a bad idea; as Stark lifted him, bodily and his legs came up automatically. Such a bad idea; when he grabbed Stark’s ass and made him groan, muffled, swallowed up by their hungry mouths. Such a terrible, terrible idea; when Stark dragged his tongue down Steve’s throat, and dragged his hand between them, pressed his knuckles against Steve’s belly just above his hard cock.
“Hah,” Steve managed, pushing one hand flat against the glass to brace himself. Stark smelled like sweat and oil, and the peculiar metallic something that reminded Steve of the suit. He knocked his head back against the glass when Stark shoved a hand down his pants and grabbed his cock; he couldn’t help from jerking his hips forward.
Stark was stronger than he looked though, he didn’t even flinch. He just pressed his own hips forward, still panting against Steve’s neck. Steve was past analyzing, he was lost in the way Stark’s hand felt around his cock; he was gone somewhere else, shaking and panting and rolling his hips until he couldn’t hold on anymore.
As Steve came, he smacked his head back against the glass and grabbed Stark tight on the shoulder, hard enough that he felt Stark grimace against his throat. Steve couldn’t even help it, he was beyond caring. He slid down the window until he found his feet again, Stark still pressed close. He pulled his hand out and wiped it over the star on the front of Steve’s uniform. Then he stepped back.
His face was red; his throat too, and Steve wanted to know if the flush went all the way down, under that bodysuit. The suit hid absolutely nothing; his erection was obvious in the glow from the arc reactor, and he had his hands fisted again by his side. He looked - he looked mythical, unreal, a symbol of everything that confused Steve about the future and about himself.
“Tony,” Steve said, and that didn’t come out as planned either. Stark was like a statue, he didn’t flicker. Steve reached out, then stepped closer, and when he ran his hands over Stark’s shoulders and his chest, he felt tension ratchet up then. “Can I rip this?” Steve said, down, into the sweaty skin by Stark’s temple, where his dark hair was curling and damp.
“Uh,” Stark was curling into him, but then he seemed to register what Steve had said. “What? No way- this thing is made of specialist hybrid polymers- you cannot! You are forbidden from tearing it. I’ll-“ He reached behind and Steve heard the hiss of a zip, and then felt the fabric gape, and then felt Tony’s bare skin. His back was hot and damp, and every muscle was quivering.
Steve peeled the suit off, touching every inch of skin uncovered, following it down until he found the surprising softness of Stark’s belly, and the hard jut of his hips. Already Stark’s shoulders were coming up in bruises the shape of Steve’s fingers. They were both shaking. Stark’s hands hung in the air, twitching and kind of impotent. He didn’t seem to know what he wanted to do with them. Steve looked up at him, met his gaze and saw frustration there. He spun Stark round and pushed him against the window. The sudden press of glass against his skin made him gasp.
“Asshole,” Stark snapped, but shut up abruptly when Steve dropped to his knees. Steve pulled the last part of the bodysuit down like he was unwrapping a present or something. Stark wasn’t wearing any underwear. That close, it was like the arc reactor was the only source of light in the whole world, and it lit up Stark’s face perfectly. Steve wrapped his hand around Stark’s cock and looked up; his expression was rapturous.
“You -ah, know how these work right? You have to use your mouth,” Stark said, in between panting. Steve grinned.
“I know how these work,” he said, close enough that the movement of his lips brushed the head of Stark’s cock. He opened his mouth and pressed his tongue against the head of Stark’s dick, just a kiss really.
Steve had never gone down on anyone before, but Stark was an easy person to learn from. When he liked what Steve was doing, he was vocal; spitting swear words and trying to grind his dick into Steve’s mouth. He kept changing his mind about where he wanted to put his hands - braced against the windows, buried into his own hair or grabbing onto Steve’s so tight it stung. He shook and groaned and banged his head back.
“Oh fuck, okay-“ he blurted, and Steve pulled back just in time for Stark to come all over his face. All the tension leaked out of Stark at once and he slumped, boneless, just about held up by both hands on the glass.
“Oh my god,” he panted. Irritated, Steve scrubbed at his face. Stark slid down, until they were both eye to eye. He grinned. “It’s like I just defiled a national monument.”
“Some warning would have been nice,” Steve sat back and spat whatever was left onto the floor. Stark looked way too pleased with himself. Still, it was hard to be annoyed, because Steve still felt good from his own orgasm, and more importantly he felt calmer, like all the frustration and confusion had melted away.
“Good idea, huh?” Stark said, scrubbing his sweaty hair back from his face.
“No, bad idea. Very, very bad idea,” Steve looked past him out at the city. The sirens were still going. They’d probably only been gone about half an hour. He’d have to tidy up and go help with the cleanup. Go help civilians when he was in such a - mess. Mortified he dropped his head into his hands.
“It worked though,” Stark said. “I feel a lot more like following your orders now you’ve serviced me orally. Who knew you had it in you, Cap?”
“Gnnrm,” Steve said, into his hands.
“Come on,” Slowly and pretty stiffly, Stark stood, and offered Steve his hand. Once they were up it was weird again, like the memory that they’d just had sex up against a window was more like a fever dream. “I’ve got a spare Cap uniform in the other room, you can’t go out there looking like you just gave me a blow job.”
He looked wicked, completely naked and in his element. Steve half expected him to wander over to the bar and pour himself a drink. He didn’t though, and he didn’t make any more comments while they cleaned up and got dressed again.
“You want a lift?” he asked, while the articulated parts of the Iron Man suit unfolded around his arms and legs. It was so unlike him to ask - usually he just did whatever he wanted without consulting Steve - and wasn’t that why they were in this whole situation to begin with? Steve could have taken the elevator down, but what the hell, in for a penny, in for a pound. He followed Stark out to the helipad and grabbed his waist.
“Seriously though,” Stark said, thick and metallic through the faceplace. “Where’d you learn to fellate?”
“Just shut up and go,” Steve said, through gritted teeth.
“Yessir,” Stark said, for once, following an order. There was a flash and rush of heat as they took off, and all the lights of Manhattan rolled passed in a blur.