[When Steve goes for his belt, Tony tries to assist instead by making the attempt to get his own layers off. Yes, he'd like for Steve to rip his clothes because that's unbearably hot, but he can also help. At least that's the thought, but there Steve is, stealing his breath away, urging his hips upwards to grind against his to gain more of that friction.

And he's not sure he's amazing, but he takes it like any other praise that spills out of Steve's lips in moments like these. Lets it burn through him, lets it make him feel good. Easy to do, too, when Steve's there at the side of his neck. His head angles and pushes back against the bed to give Steve a larger expanse of skin to mark up while his hands latch onto anywhere he can get them.

Namely, eventually, Steve's ass. Pushing and pulling him into the way they move together, squeezing too.]

Gonna make you mine. Show the world how lucky I got. [Because that's where his thoughts always are. That Steve is above and beyond him and he's terribly lucky he still gets to keep him. Every day.]

Mn- hmn- normal-? [He's more than a little lost and it doesn't help that Tony has no concept of what normal married life looks like. But he tries to drunkenly build the vision Steve suddenly has going on.]

Getting the mail and- picnics out by the lake. Holidays. And vacations. Just you and me. Did- ...I mention how lucky I am? That I get to keep you? Because if I didn't- I can say it a few more times.