There are times Tony doesn't make sense. It's fine with Steve. He listens to the tone of his voice more than his words when he gets like that. He's listening for the catch of Tony's breath and the small whimpers between words. The praise is great. Steve can admit to himself that he's a little addicted to it. There's something about Tony telling him he's good and perfect and doing well that gets under his skin in the best way. It settles over him like a warm blanket making him a little less desperate to prove himself and a little more able to focus his attention on Tony and not his own insecurities about this.

He knows Tony's usually only good for one to two rounds though. Steve keeps his attention focused on the right balance of pleasure. He doesn't want him coming too soon or too fast. He wants to keep Tony suspended here where there's no worries, no struggle, no paint. It's just the two of them and how good he can make Tony feel. For as long as Tony can stand it.

Steve makes no effort to hold Tony down. His hands rest warmly on his thighs, stroking the sensitive skin along the inside but there's nothing restrictive. Silently, he gives Tony free reign to do what he wants to his mouth. That includes choking him if he gets a little wild. Steve can take it.

Because he can feel Tony holding himself back which isn't the point of this. The point is for Tony to let go and stop thinking so damn much. He can feel and do what he needs. Steve's here to give him pleasure. His own throbbing erection is secondary to everything else.

To make this blatantly clear Steve takes a deep breath through his nose and pushes himself down as far as he can, swallowing Tony's cock into his throat. His nose pressed against his groin for a few long seconds as he adjusts to it. Then he draws back slowly and carefully to catch his breath and blink a few tears from the corners of his eyes.

Was that blatant enough invitation?