[The hangovers are the worst part about a fun night, but he'll worry about that tomorrow. Literally. The only time he'll need to. Right now he's having fun, making away with Steve like a couple of drunk college kids. Away from the party and into the dorms, so to speak.
A little noise slips out of him, as Steve lifts him up and throws him down, something slightly startled but warm near the end. Followed by more of that warm bubbly laughter that alcohol lets loose from him so freely. Not quite as guarded or reserved. The chuckling dying down into an even softer noise as Steve leans in over him. Tony's hands are as greedy as ever, catching in Steve's shirt before lifting to hold the sides of Steve's face, pull him in closer so they can kiss.]
Oh- is that what we're doing?
[Lips parted, grinning against Steve's mouth, and then kissing him again because that's apparently the name of the game now. Less about finding something that'll only get everyone else- Steve in this case- to drink. Instead trying to flip through his mental catalogue to capture them both.]
Never have I ever- wanted you so bad I couldn't keep my hands to myself.
[Tactless and maybe a little too easy, especially as he gives himself permission to reach down and cup Steve's ass in a firm squeeze while tipping in for another smiley kiss. But it only occurs to him that that makes no sense and he tries to amend-]
Could? Could keep my hands to myself? You know what I mean.
[ The phrasing's a bit hard for Steve to wrap his head around, but they're both drunk and it kind of makes sense to his ale-addled brain. ]
You know how I feel about that.
[ He kisses Tony sloppily, because he's unable to keep the smile off his face as they come together. Tony's hands on his cheeks just makes him so very happy in this moment, and he can't help but to grin like a cat who's caught a bird.
When Tony grabs his ass he doesn't know whether to move backwards into the touch or forwards to grind his hips into Tony's, so he tries both in succession and stars dot the back of his eyelids. ]
Never have I ever... been able to get you off my mind.
[ It's a near-constant thing, to think of Tony. He's always thought it was just on par the course with loving Tony Stark: the man never did anything in half-measures so why would this be any different? Why would this be any less than obsessive and all-consuming? Sometimes it's dizzying just to think that they're here together, almost overwhelming in nature. But Steve loves this too, loves feeling this way, and loves knowing that Tony is the same.
He works on Tony's shirt, his movements graceless, definitely pulling a few buttons along the way. ]
Wait, wait, you do this. I'm destroying your shirt.
[He could so very happily drown in Steve in this moment and it'd probably be the best way to go. The way their lips slide against each other, disconnect and reconnect, broken up by smiles and their soft, shared laughter. Sometimes at nothing, it doesn't really matter. He's liquor-loose and having a great time with Steve atop him.]
You're a little too good at this game.
[Amused, tow lone and rumbly as he hums the words against Steve's mouth while he's still there. And when Steve starts pawing at his shirt he thinks he should help. Probably try and unbutton himself out of his waistcoat and his shirt- but instead his hands are shifting up along Steve's back, grabbing his shirt instead as if he intends to pull it off for him.
Though when Steve stills Tony does, too, trying his best to listen because Steve said wait and-
The reason why has him biting his own lower lip and it must be obvious what he's about to say.]
Go ahead. Rip it. Take it off me. But let me take off yours first before you do.
[Even though he assumes Steve won't have to do much flexing if any, it must be like tearing paper to him. But Tony will so very clearly take any opportunity to get Steve out of his clothes anyway.]
[ Steve has never felt so uncoordinated in his life, but he's trying his best. And when Tony asks that Steve take his shirt off first, he tries to just lift it over his head, but then he gets stuck. So, he gives it a good rip and thinks he'll just sew all these buttons back on tomorrow, except that somehow he's also managed to basically just hulk out of the damn thing.
And, okay, maybe he will try to buy a sturdier shirt, for more than $50, some other time.
He barely gets it off and he's already rolling his hips against Tony's, almost as if he'd forgotten that they still are mostly clothed and there's still all this fabric in the way. But he works on that, forgoing the shirt for now and grasping at Tony's belt as he latches lips onto his neck, definitively less discerning with his kisses than he would normally be sober. ]
You're so amazing, Tony.
[ He can't really help how soft he feels in the moment - normally he at least gets a bit of a filter, but while drunk everything is open and honest and apparently steeped in poetry and little games to get to know Tony better. Sort of. It's not like the game gave him any new information, but the thought was there. ]
Can't wait to marry you.
[ He unhelpfully mutters all this into Tony's neck, and further sentiments about his dreams for married life. ]
And do all our taxes together. Make you coffee every morning. 'N take out all your garbage.
[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.
[ He hopes they're not downstairs waiting for them, because Steve thinks that he and Tony are retiring for the night, that when they're done here, they might need to reserve all their energy to get up and wash off afterwards, and then collapse on top of each other in drunken laughter until they fall asleep.
But right now, his thoughts have completely shut off as Tony grabs his ass, and his hands go to desperately take himself out of his pants, lips clumsy against Tony's as he nearly rips his belt loops off with his belt, and whines into his mouth and his jaw and his cheek. ]
Picnics... Yes.
[ The way that word trails off into a hiss as he thrusts his hips down make it almost sound like he's turned on by picnics; it's very difficult to keep a conversation going while in this state.
He pulls his pants down until they're only around his knees, and tries to kick them off the rest of the way as he puts his hand on Tony's ass and pulls at him until they roll over, until Tony's straddling his waist, which, okay, didn't actually make it easier to take his pants off, but the thought was almost there. ]
Let's go on a vacation. You, and me. And a sunset.
[ He smiles up at Tony, and runs hands down his sides, until he's got both his hands full of asscheek. He gives one a little jostle, and the other one a playful little smack. ]
[He's not expecting his world to suddenly reorient itself. It leaves him a little dizzy and confused, falling atop Steve halfway, hands pushed into the mattress at the sides of Steve's head while he figures out what the hell just happened. More earnest laughter seems to just pour out of him when he figures out what exactly it was.]
And nothing between us- presumably-
[Words getting in the way of all that audible mirth. Then it's his turn, to push back into Steve's hands while trying to listen to what's being, more or less, commanded of him.
He has to sit up on his knees, weight on Steve's lap, as he figures out how to unbutton his pants and unzip them the rest of the way, and then attempt to peel them off his hips in some way that's sexy and less just uncoordinated.]
I love when you do that- by the way- very hot- [So he starts with this as he gets his pants and boxers down halfway and then he slides in a lean over Steve again, half kissing him while the rest of his attention is still in getting his pants the rest of the way off.]
When you just do what you want. Take what you want. Drives me crazy. Makes me wanna give you everything. [Not a new thought, but definitely unguarded in its entirety as he speaks it anew with no barrier.]
[ Steve should really be helping Tony get his clothes off, but he's more of a hindrance, and finds himself busy with warm hands on his skin, running up his sides, cupping his chest, flicking a thumb over his nipple. The sensation feels just a little bit different when he's drunk - no worse or better, just different. It's a little bit thrilling. ]
You always wanna give me everything.
[ A total call-out, but he doesn't mean it badly. He smacks Tony on the ass and draws his tongue over his teeth as he's finally freed from his pants, dropping a hand to gently tease his cock. He looks up at Tony with as intense a gaze as he can muster, half-affected by drink and half by lust. ]
I love it. Love that you can't wait to get my hands on you. Love when you always tell me what I want to do to you, like you don't want it just as bad. Like it's never your idea in the first place.
[ The rambling doesn't really get a filter, but that's fine. One of the things he likes about the sex is the vulnerability, the way that he doesn't have to put on the Steve Rogers he shows to everyone else. He just gets to be Tony's fiancé, his beloved, his lover. ]
I need you.
[ He mumbles that into Tony's mouth, feeling all the drunker still off of their shared breaths, fumbling around in their nightstand, getting what he's looking for but also definitely smacking the whole top drawer onto the bedroom floor. ]
[He feels himself flush a little brighter, with Steve hands on him, and the way he's talking to him. Caught, as always. No point in pretending otherwise. Steve's right. He wants him every moment of every day and has never much been afraid to say so. Would definitely give him anything he asked for.
Which is why those next three words get a tipsy nod, before he attempts to kiss him senseless. It doesn't really go as planned, not with Steve reaching back to blindly try and get the lube out of the nightstand- and potentially break it no less- which has Tony smiling against his lips.
He tries to ease down from the amusement though so he can take the bottle in hand, and make his attempt at seducing Steve further. It's not necessary, but there's also never a moment where he doesn't want to be, either, just the same.]
Tell me what you need, gorgeous. [He backs off only so that he can pour some lube on his fingers, not really waiting for Steve to finish as he nudges his legs wider, sliding a hand along his cock first in one slow pump.]
Want me to fuck you? Nice and slow and deep? [Words spilled out against Steve's lips still, migrating that touch lower, palm with a soft pressure against Steve's balls before dropping between his legs completely, finger just gently circling his entrance.]
[ He loves all the ways that they have sex, that they make love. When it's slow, or when it's fast and hard, it's always intense, it's always exactly what he needs. So the answer's always yes, or at least a resounding sure, he'd like to try, if it's not something that's in his repertoire.
He gets to say that less and less, as time goes on.
And yet, he's not expecting it when Tony nudges his legs apart and just plays with him, pulls moans from him even as he writhes his hips to get just a little more sensation. ]
Yes. Yes, Tony, give it to me. Fuck me.
[ There's not a way to be less crude about this, but he knows Tony gets off on hearing all these vulgar words come out of Steve's mouth. And not only that - all those kicks really help his flexibility, and he spreads his legs in a full split, because he knows Tony likes seeing how very eager Steve is all the time, too.
He pulls Tony in close, sloppy kisses at his jaw, hand holding his hair just a tad veering on a little too hard. ]
How do you want me? Any way you want it, sweetheart, I'm yours.
[A few deep moans leak out from him, against Steve's skin, his lips, almost like sharing the sound with him where he can't really help it. What he's saying, the wide spread of his legs in eager anticipation and heavy need- and, yes, the way Steve's suddenly clutching to his hair. He's willing himself to climb back down from his drunken haze so that he doesn't get overzealous and possibly hurt Steve.
He slides a finger deep into him, pressing up immediately against his prostate, withdraws, and then back in again slow repeating the exact same motion while he tries to get his brain together. If that's even possible at this point.]
I think- maybe- half on your side, with your leg over my shoulder. It's a great angle.
[And a position he can manage while drunk. Maybe. He's mostly sure. Confident enough. One finger turns to two while he scissors them gently in and out, going for deep, long strokes every time.]
Wanna watch you take me and turn into a mess. Unless you want something else- in which case- speak now- etcetera etcetera.
[ Tony's always intent on turning Steve's brain into absolute slush, but the drink's already gotten him halfway there, so it doesn't take much to turn him into an absolute mess. He grabs a pillow to muffle his own sound with it as Tony brushes up against him where he's the most sensitive, whines when he withdraws, and his hips try to follow Tony's hand. ]
I like it any way you like it.
[ He says this into the pillow, so most of the words get completely drowned out, so he moves it to the side as he writhes down on Tony's fingers, one hand around his waist and the other one reaching down between his legs to gently work his cock. ]
It was a good night, wasn't it?
[ He's still a little stuck on this idea that they're doing things like getting drunk at parties together, stepping out as a couple. Moving into a house. Soon they'll be married, and putting things on a registry of stuff they don't need and painting swatches of ten different white paints on the walls, doing all the things normal couples do.
He'd never bought into that family dynamic that almost everyone his age seemed to want a part of, that 1950s stuff, because he'd never wanted a wife like that and he's pretty sure Tony would only put on an apron for sex-related reasons. But, still, he carries this fantasy where he brings Tony pancakes in bed, and they host dinner parties, and do the Sunday crossword together. ]
We should do this more.
[ The hand that's at Tony's waist lifts to cup his cheek. Whatever Steve's thinking, it's soft. ]
[The way Steve touches him has him faltering if only slightly. Hard to task out his attentions while he's still drunk. Doesn't come as fluid as it usually does. But he tries to get a hold of himself, tries to also listen to what Steve's saying.]
Mostly. After I stopped being late. Which you're well within your rights to be mad about, you know.
[Because it's how it always is. Things get planned and he loses track of time or people take it from him and he can't get away. It's not that things aren't important, it's just so easy for him to get lost and buried underneath work that feels all consuming and important in the moment.
He rests his forehead against Steve's, still half kneeled over him, one hand in the bed, as his next slow shift inward he adds a third digit. And that look Steve's suddenly giving him makes him feel like he might melt into a puddle atop him.]
What- get drunk at parties together? [Grinning a little where he can't help it.] Leave when everyone has had enough of us canoodling and have sex? You won't find me disagreeing with the idea.
[Sounds like a very perfect night. Has been so far. Will continue to be for as long as they carry on, he's certain.]
[ Steve gives a mock pout, exacerbated by how drunk he is, flushed pink and looking up at Tony with nearly black eyes. ]
Still am mad you were late. Could've recited you my poetry.
[ But that melts into a groan as Tony presses a third finger into him, as his jaw falls slack and he gasps like he's surprised at how pleasurable it is to be opened on Tony's hand. It's strange, isn't it? How many times they've done this, but it feels so brand new. ]
Go to parties together, get drunk, leave with each other.
[ It seems so mundane when he puts it like that, but he kind of loves the idea of something to balance out all the times their relationship is so bizarrely absurd. Tony asking him to fly into Italy on a moment's notice, Steve asking Tony for remote access to an abandoned AIM facility and then to dinner after.
Their lives are ridiculous, and that's why they have a lake house and why Steve puts up a tree every year for Christmas and wants to knit Tony sweaters and make a little scrapbook of their lives. ]
Depends on how bad our hangovers are.
[ He swivels his hips down on Tony's fingers, his words almost breathless, but soon enough those little snippets of dreams for their utterly normal lives together turn into something more pressing: ]
[A slightly incomplete thought, caught up in Steve's body and the way he looks underneath him, but a true one nonetheless. Steve's artistic mind continues to be one of the most beautiful Tony has encountered and he'd encourage him in any endeavor he'd ever want to hone in on. The poetry texted to him tonight had been some parts silly, he might not ever get over bye, but the other parts around it had been as warming and wonderful as Steve's art always is.
Steve's whining clears some of the fog, if only a little. It's a slow withdraw, the way he pulls his fingers from Steve, blindly reaches around to find that bottle of lube and pours a generous amount over his cock. Losing some of the plot, as his hand wraps around and he gives himself a few slow pumps that he works his hips equally into with a soft breath out.
But as his half-lidded gaze takes in Steve spread out for him he shifts in, taking Steve's leg up over his shoulder, thigh to his chest. His hands palm over his hips, directing him towards the right.]
Lay a little on your side for me.
[Hoping to give Steve a deeper angle in this position as he turns him, brushing the head of his cock against him and only waiting just a few seconds more before easing in, almost entirely too consumed with the way Steve feels the second he's inside him.]
Fuck- [The word tumbles out of him in a groan.] You're so tight- so perfect for me- [Praises just as much in free-fall until he completely bottoms out and holds the position there for a second to give Steve time to adjust.] Love the way I stretch you out. You feel incredible.
[ He'll regret sending it in the morning, but only a little bit - mostly for the 'byes', since he never knows how to bookend a thought. He's got the beginning, he's got the middle, and he doesn't know how it ends because he doesn't want it to: he wants that feeling to stretch on and on like driving at night on an empty freeway.
He follows Tony's lead, reposed on his side, leg propped up against Tony's chest. He could lean over as far as he wants; Steve is flexible, and something about the angle at which he's reclining and the thin sheen of sweat forming on his skin puts his muscles in sharp relief, each inhale carving out more of his abdomen than should be legal.
And when Tony sinks into him, he feels like he can't breathe, his brows knit tightly, his nerves alight. He doesn't feel any pain, but there's so much pressure from how Tony fills him up, he can hardly place a coherent thought in his head besides "Tony," and that's what he says, over and over again, losing a little breath each time. ]
Move.
[ Finally, another thought. He shifts his hips and feels shivers across his whole body. ]
[Kneeling in a wide stance, holding Steve's leg in one hand with a squeeze, he feels fairly balanced and might stay this way for a bit. If he can manage it. The room is still swimming around him just slightly, but his focus is entirely on Steve. He looks utterly unfair this way and Tony finds himself chewing on his lower lip.
Staring like a man starving, like he's not already currently buried to the hilt in him. Steve's calls of his name only bring him further into this realm of being unfocused and yet sharply so on every inch of Steve.
But it's when he starts making demands that he finds himself grinning. His free hand drops, trailing from just beneath the center of Steve's ribcage, tips of his fingers pressing in over those well defined muscles. Lower still, teasing over the length of his cock.]
Bossy.
[As teasing as it is reprimanding. But for Steve's efforts he slowly withdraws, like he might stay slow.]
You like telling me what to do? When I've got you underneath me like this?
[Only when he's almost all the way pulled out does he rock his hips inward quickly, slamming himself into Steve in the very next breath.]
[ Steve's body is pulled taut like a string being tuned, and he always feels like he might snap and break, but knows that he's in good hands, that no matter how much tension there is, there's always a release coming eventually, and that Tony knows his body enough to guide him there every time, without fail.
But he also always takes him right to the point, hand around his cock and buried within him, the pressure so high, the pleasure so strong that it hits him with the kind of force he usually associates with battle. ]
You like when I'm--
[ Bossy, he wants to say, but the word doesn't make it out as Tony slams into him, pushing Steve into Tony's hand, causing a fault in his thoughts, an incoherent groan replacing it instead. The arm that isn't keeping him propped up reaches towards Tony, on his side, over his ribcage, grasping and pawing at his chest.
He manages to eke out the words: ]
Just like that.
[ Riding on the breath he exhales with, thought finishing before he can draw another, or else it too would be lost. His head is swimming more than it usually is, alcohol clouding his mind as much as the lust, but he knows what he wants; he's not afraid to chase it, pulling Tony towards him, his hips impatient, pleas just on the tip of his tongue. ]
[Even though Steve loses the words, Tony hears them and finishes the idea for him, even lost as they are.]
I do.
[There's no point in hiding it. In even trying to lie about it. Steve's mouthiness is incredibly hot. When he demands, when he takes too. If Tony were less inebriated and able to focus he might try to hold out on Steve. Tease him until he gets just hot enough under the proverbial collar, until he gets just frustrated enough.
But like this, where he's already deep inside him and his head is spinning and Steve's moaning underneath him, he can't do anything but exactly what Steve wants.]
Like this?
[Asked while he's doing exactly that. Pulling out slow and slamming back into him at that angle, clutching tight to his leg.]
God- look at the way you take me- so fucking gorgeous- you're so good for me like this-
[Words, unfiltered, tumbling out of him while he sets on that mid-paced and hard rhythm in and out of Steve, eyes intermittently locked on Steve's face and then his body, watching the way he sinks into him.]
[ Tony's ever the tease, but he also always shuts Steve up every single time that he gets close to whining about it. This is no exception, and so when Tony rocks back into him, it pulls a long moan from deep within his core.
The way their bodies twist and wind and tangle together leaves zero doubt in Steve's mind that they were, in part, made for each other. Otherwise, he couldn't think of another, more perfect accident. ]
Like that, like that, fuck me--
[ He can't see it, but the way he looks up at Tony and sees him sometimes with his eyes lowered, it makes his cheeks burn. It's not like he doesn't like to look, too, whenever they're connected together: watching as Tony takes him, as Tony's body is so greedy for him. It's so intimate and private and filthy. ]
You like that, Tony? Like watching the way your cock opens me up -- and -- and fills me in?
[ Before he loses himself completely in the sensation, he has the wherewithal to clench down a little, make it all the tighter for Tony and be good to him, but soon he's a mess, blabbering "don't stop, don't stop" over and over again. ]
[A murmur to no one. An errant thought that passes by. Not the least of which because it's true. Steve's his, so thoroughly and completely, and there isn't a moment that passes by that he's not in awe of that fact. Especially not when they're tangled together like this.
When Steve lets Tony fuck him. Sometimes that's what it feels like. That Steve's inherently too good for him and this is all some extended spate of luck. After all their time together, he knows it's not so, not like that, but he can't help the thought.
There's a moan first, that he can't help, before an actual answer can even form. As Steve's body just wraps around him, keeps him, and almost feels like inviting him further in- as impossible as that is. Alcohol haze making the thought feel real. His pace picks up just a little, not demanding, but still deep and hard.]
Wouldn't dream of it, gorgeous.
[A warm, easy response to those repeated pleas.]
And I do. Love the way you look when I fuck you open. When I'm this deep inside you and you can't help but beg me not to stop.
[Which clearly is something he's enjoying quite a lot. He curves in just a little, drawing the tip of his finger against the head of Steve's cock and then traces down the length.]
This too? You wanna let me have all of you?
[Said like it might be the best idea he's ever heard.]
[ If there was ever any filter at all in their bedroom, there isn't one now that Steve's too inebriated and drunk off their lovemaking to put one up, moans so loud that even in this state they make him blush to know they're coming out of his mouth.
The whole world gets distilled, concentrated down to where they connect: from Steve's thighs up to where he splits, the thrusts slowly driving him delirious with pleasure, and when Tony touches him it's any wonder he doesn't finish right there. His cock twitches with interest, and one hand is balled up into the sheets. The other one flat against his stomach, trying to keep his balance and composure but there's none of it left. ]
You do that, I won't last.
[ Not that it ever really mattered to Tony, who would gladly volunteer to have Steve over and over again, to pleasure him more times than he could count in a row, to lead him to exhaustion. But selfishly, he wants to hold onto this feeling forever, of being taken in this way, each brush against his skin feeling like wildfire. ]
You want that? Want me to come for you? God, Tony, you feel so good--
[ He won't last very long, in either case, but he's sure Tony knows that. ]
[This would be a moment where he should weigh his options very carefully. If it were just him touching Steve, he'd unequivocally say yes. Push Steve over the edge and bargain, maybe even beg for more. The usual. As many as Steve will let him get away with. Because that's all he ever wants to do. Wants to turn him into the perfect picture of mush that he is right now beneath him. Over and over. Make him feel so good he can't remember his own name.
But. It's not quite that simple, seeing as how he's buried deep, to the hilt on each thrust inward. If Steve comes he might very well lose it in every sense of the word. And that should offer some pause for consideration.
It's just that he's a little too drunk to care about that right now. Feels too good to want to stop. Really it's a wonder at all that he hasn't just succumbed completely to the way Steve feels around him and started pounding him into the mattress. Clearly he should be praised for this drunken amount of restraint.]
Always want you to come for me. As much as you'll let me make you.
[It starts tumbling out of him as his hand wraps completely around Steve's cock, timing the way he thrusts his hand around him with his hips still working.]
You're so beautiful like this. I just wanna watch you lose it. Wanna feel you come on my cock. Don't hold back just let me take you there. Fuck- I might come too-
[The only warning he feels like giving, while still riding Steve in that relentlessly slow and deep rhythm. Waiting it out, ready to fall over that edge with him.]
[ If he'd ever felt helplessly swept away by a sensation, then every time he falls into bed with Tony might qualify. There is just never another rush that feels quite as exquisite as when they're together, and that, to Steve, feels like being turned to mush. ]
Yes, right-- just right there, Tony, fuck I'm so close, please--
[ If Tony just looked at him, he'd melt completely under his gaze, so when he takes Steve into his hand, it's little wonder that it doesn't take very long for him to fall headfirst over the edge, making a mess all over Tony's fist and all over his front. But it hardly matters to him, as everything else just bleeds away at the edges, his own moans sounding muffled and dreamlike as it takes complete control of his body for a good few seconds.
There's always been a lot of trust here, between them, even when they'd felt like they had no choice. Now, it's freely given, and Steve knows that he couldn't be safer in another's arms, nor happier. He reaches for Tony, then, braces against him, rocks his hips back and forth so he can help Tony finish too, so he can pull Tony along with him. ]
Come on, Tony, come for me, I want you to.
[ He's spent but greedy for it, looking up at Tony, eyes locked with his, writhing underneath him, whispering sweet encouraging things to him. ]
[Steve's always a sight when he's beneath him. Or on top of him. Or any way, really. All Tony's addled brain can suddenly come up with, when Steve's writhing underneath him. Entire body gripping him so tight. And falling so completely over that edge. He's so beautiful like this. Gone- and so completely his.
He'd watch this for hours, if he could. Give this to Steve as much as Steve would let him. It's unfortunate he's buried so deep inside him because his body's got other plans. Has almost no choice. Not with how good Steve feels around him, and not with how incredible he looks when he's coming. When he sounds like this underneath him.
He doesn't really need to ask for it. Tony lets Steve's leg down, just so he can be closer, mingling in that fresh mess as he presses himself against Steve, hands digging into the bed at the sides of his head, meeting him while he moves. Finally close enough, his lips drop and press against Steve in uneven moves, breath and groans spilling out of his mouth while he loses a bit of control.]
Fuck- fuck- Steve-
[Clipped and about the only verbal warning he can manage, a few thrusts harder as if he could really get himself that much deeper inside Steve and then that's it for him. Working through his orgasm by pumping his hips a few more times, a little harder, and then settling inside Steve while he comes, forehead falling, pressed against Steve's as everything else clears out around them.
It's just Steve and him and the world could cease to exist in that moment that'd probably be alright. The shivers and aftershocks feel almost just as good and he doesn't realize he's smiling for a handful of seconds, drunken haze and lust still keeping him slightly chugging behind normal speed.
Despite all that there's only one thing he seems to want to say in a warm, easy murmur.]
I love you. [Between one press of lips and then it seems there's more.] I love you. You don't even know- just how much- [He might be drunk and riding a very intense afterglow but that doesn't make it any less true.]
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[The hangovers are the worst part about a fun night, but he'll worry about that tomorrow. Literally. The only time he'll need to. Right now he's having fun, making away with Steve like a couple of drunk college kids. Away from the party and into the dorms, so to speak.
A little noise slips out of him, as Steve lifts him up and throws him down, something slightly startled but warm near the end. Followed by more of that warm bubbly laughter that alcohol lets loose from him so freely. Not quite as guarded or reserved. The chuckling dying down into an even softer noise as Steve leans in over him. Tony's hands are as greedy as ever, catching in Steve's shirt before lifting to hold the sides of Steve's face, pull him in closer so they can kiss.]
Oh- is that what we're doing?
[Lips parted, grinning against Steve's mouth, and then kissing him again because that's apparently the name of the game now. Less about finding something that'll only get everyone else- Steve in this case- to drink. Instead trying to flip through his mental catalogue to capture them both.]
Never have I ever- wanted you so bad I couldn't keep my hands to myself.
[Tactless and maybe a little too easy, especially as he gives himself permission to reach down and cup Steve's ass in a firm squeeze while tipping in for another smiley kiss. But it only occurs to him that that makes no sense and he tries to amend-]
Could? Could keep my hands to myself? You know what I mean.
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You know how I feel about that.
[ He kisses Tony sloppily, because he's unable to keep the smile off his face as they come together. Tony's hands on his cheeks just makes him so very happy in this moment, and he can't help but to grin like a cat who's caught a bird.
When Tony grabs his ass he doesn't know whether to move backwards into the touch or forwards to grind his hips into Tony's, so he tries both in succession and stars dot the back of his eyelids. ]
Never have I ever... been able to get you off my mind.
[ It's a near-constant thing, to think of Tony. He's always thought it was just on par the course with loving Tony Stark: the man never did anything in half-measures so why would this be any different? Why would this be any less than obsessive and all-consuming? Sometimes it's dizzying just to think that they're here together, almost overwhelming in nature. But Steve loves this too, loves feeling this way, and loves knowing that Tony is the same.
He works on Tony's shirt, his movements graceless, definitely pulling a few buttons along the way. ]
Wait, wait, you do this. I'm destroying your shirt.
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You're a little too good at this game.
[Amused, tow lone and rumbly as he hums the words against Steve's mouth while he's still there. And when Steve starts pawing at his shirt he thinks he should help. Probably try and unbutton himself out of his waistcoat and his shirt- but instead his hands are shifting up along Steve's back, grabbing his shirt instead as if he intends to pull it off for him.
Though when Steve stills Tony does, too, trying his best to listen because Steve said wait and-
The reason why has him biting his own lower lip and it must be obvious what he's about to say.]
Go ahead. Rip it. Take it off me. But let me take off yours first before you do.
[Even though he assumes Steve won't have to do much flexing if any, it must be like tearing paper to him. But Tony will so very clearly take any opportunity to get Steve out of his clothes anyway.]
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And, okay, maybe he will try to buy a sturdier shirt, for more than $50, some other time.
He barely gets it off and he's already rolling his hips against Tony's, almost as if he'd forgotten that they still are mostly clothed and there's still all this fabric in the way. But he works on that, forgoing the shirt for now and grasping at Tony's belt as he latches lips onto his neck, definitively less discerning with his kisses than he would normally be sober. ]
You're so amazing, Tony.
[ He can't really help how soft he feels in the moment - normally he at least gets a bit of a filter, but while drunk everything is open and honest and apparently steeped in poetry and little games to get to know Tony better. Sort of. It's not like the game gave him any new information, but the thought was there. ]
Can't wait to marry you.
[ He unhelpfully mutters all this into Tony's neck, and further sentiments about his dreams for married life. ]
And do all our taxes together. Make you coffee every morning. 'N take out all your garbage.
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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.
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But right now, his thoughts have completely shut off as Tony grabs his ass, and his hands go to desperately take himself out of his pants, lips clumsy against Tony's as he nearly rips his belt loops off with his belt, and whines into his mouth and his jaw and his cheek. ]
Picnics... Yes.
[ The way that word trails off into a hiss as he thrusts his hips down make it almost sound like he's turned on by picnics; it's very difficult to keep a conversation going while in this state.
He pulls his pants down until they're only around his knees, and tries to kick them off the rest of the way as he puts his hand on Tony's ass and pulls at him until they roll over, until Tony's straddling his waist, which, okay, didn't actually make it easier to take his pants off, but the thought was almost there. ]
Let's go on a vacation. You, and me. And a sunset.
[ He smiles up at Tony, and runs hands down his sides, until he's got both his hands full of asscheek. He gives one a little jostle, and the other one a playful little smack. ]
Need these off.
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And nothing between us- presumably-
[Words getting in the way of all that audible mirth. Then it's his turn, to push back into Steve's hands while trying to listen to what's being, more or less, commanded of him.
He has to sit up on his knees, weight on Steve's lap, as he figures out how to unbutton his pants and unzip them the rest of the way, and then attempt to peel them off his hips in some way that's sexy and less just uncoordinated.]
I love when you do that- by the way- very hot- [So he starts with this as he gets his pants and boxers down halfway and then he slides in a lean over Steve again, half kissing him while the rest of his attention is still in getting his pants the rest of the way off.]
When you just do what you want. Take what you want. Drives me crazy. Makes me wanna give you everything. [Not a new thought, but definitely unguarded in its entirety as he speaks it anew with no barrier.]
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You always wanna give me everything.
[ A total call-out, but he doesn't mean it badly. He smacks Tony on the ass and draws his tongue over his teeth as he's finally freed from his pants, dropping a hand to gently tease his cock. He looks up at Tony with as intense a gaze as he can muster, half-affected by drink and half by lust. ]
I love it. Love that you can't wait to get my hands on you. Love when you always tell me what I want to do to you, like you don't want it just as bad. Like it's never your idea in the first place.
[ The rambling doesn't really get a filter, but that's fine. One of the things he likes about the sex is the vulnerability, the way that he doesn't have to put on the Steve Rogers he shows to everyone else. He just gets to be Tony's fiancé, his beloved, his lover. ]
I need you.
[ He mumbles that into Tony's mouth, feeling all the drunker still off of their shared breaths, fumbling around in their nightstand, getting what he's looking for but also definitely smacking the whole top drawer onto the bedroom floor. ]
--'ll fix that tomorrow.
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Which is why those next three words get a tipsy nod, before he attempts to kiss him senseless. It doesn't really go as planned, not with Steve reaching back to blindly try and get the lube out of the nightstand- and potentially break it no less- which has Tony smiling against his lips.
He tries to ease down from the amusement though so he can take the bottle in hand, and make his attempt at seducing Steve further. It's not necessary, but there's also never a moment where he doesn't want to be, either, just the same.]
Tell me what you need, gorgeous. [He backs off only so that he can pour some lube on his fingers, not really waiting for Steve to finish as he nudges his legs wider, sliding a hand along his cock first in one slow pump.]
Want me to fuck you? Nice and slow and deep? [Words spilled out against Steve's lips still, migrating that touch lower, palm with a soft pressure against Steve's balls before dropping between his legs completely, finger just gently circling his entrance.]
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He gets to say that less and less, as time goes on.
And yet, he's not expecting it when Tony nudges his legs apart and just plays with him, pulls moans from him even as he writhes his hips to get just a little more sensation. ]
Yes. Yes, Tony, give it to me. Fuck me.
[ There's not a way to be less crude about this, but he knows Tony gets off on hearing all these vulgar words come out of Steve's mouth. And not only that - all those kicks really help his flexibility, and he spreads his legs in a full split, because he knows Tony likes seeing how very eager Steve is all the time, too.
He pulls Tony in close, sloppy kisses at his jaw, hand holding his hair just a tad veering on a little too hard. ]
How do you want me? Any way you want it, sweetheart, I'm yours.
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He slides a finger deep into him, pressing up immediately against his prostate, withdraws, and then back in again slow repeating the exact same motion while he tries to get his brain together. If that's even possible at this point.]
I think- maybe- half on your side, with your leg over my shoulder. It's a great angle.
[And a position he can manage while drunk. Maybe. He's mostly sure. Confident enough. One finger turns to two while he scissors them gently in and out, going for deep, long strokes every time.]
Wanna watch you take me and turn into a mess. Unless you want something else- in which case- speak now- etcetera etcetera.
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I like it any way you like it.
[ He says this into the pillow, so most of the words get completely drowned out, so he moves it to the side as he writhes down on Tony's fingers, one hand around his waist and the other one reaching down between his legs to gently work his cock. ]
It was a good night, wasn't it?
[ He's still a little stuck on this idea that they're doing things like getting drunk at parties together, stepping out as a couple. Moving into a house. Soon they'll be married, and putting things on a registry of stuff they don't need and painting swatches of ten different white paints on the walls, doing all the things normal couples do.
He'd never bought into that family dynamic that almost everyone his age seemed to want a part of, that 1950s stuff, because he'd never wanted a wife like that and he's pretty sure Tony would only put on an apron for sex-related reasons. But, still, he carries this fantasy where he brings Tony pancakes in bed, and they host dinner parties, and do the Sunday crossword together. ]
We should do this more.
[ The hand that's at Tony's waist lifts to cup his cheek. Whatever Steve's thinking, it's soft. ]
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Mostly. After I stopped being late. Which you're well within your rights to be mad about, you know.
[Because it's how it always is. Things get planned and he loses track of time or people take it from him and he can't get away. It's not that things aren't important, it's just so easy for him to get lost and buried underneath work that feels all consuming and important in the moment.
He rests his forehead against Steve's, still half kneeled over him, one hand in the bed, as his next slow shift inward he adds a third digit. And that look Steve's suddenly giving him makes him feel like he might melt into a puddle atop him.]
What- get drunk at parties together? [Grinning a little where he can't help it.] Leave when everyone has had enough of us canoodling and have sex? You won't find me disagreeing with the idea.
[Sounds like a very perfect night. Has been so far. Will continue to be for as long as they carry on, he's certain.]
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Still am mad you were late. Could've recited you my poetry.
[ But that melts into a groan as Tony presses a third finger into him, as his jaw falls slack and he gasps like he's surprised at how pleasurable it is to be opened on Tony's hand. It's strange, isn't it? How many times they've done this, but it feels so brand new. ]
Go to parties together, get drunk, leave with each other.
[ It seems so mundane when he puts it like that, but he kind of loves the idea of something to balance out all the times their relationship is so bizarrely absurd. Tony asking him to fly into Italy on a moment's notice, Steve asking Tony for remote access to an abandoned AIM facility and then to dinner after.
Their lives are ridiculous, and that's why they have a lake house and why Steve puts up a tree every year for Christmas and wants to knit Tony sweaters and make a little scrapbook of their lives. ]
Depends on how bad our hangovers are.
[ He swivels his hips down on Tony's fingers, his words almost breathless, but soon enough those little snippets of dreams for their utterly normal lives together turn into something more pressing: ]
I'm ready, Tony, please Tony...
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[A slightly incomplete thought, caught up in Steve's body and the way he looks underneath him, but a true one nonetheless. Steve's artistic mind continues to be one of the most beautiful Tony has encountered and he'd encourage him in any endeavor he'd ever want to hone in on. The poetry texted to him tonight had been some parts silly, he might not ever get over bye, but the other parts around it had been as warming and wonderful as Steve's art always is.
Steve's whining clears some of the fog, if only a little. It's a slow withdraw, the way he pulls his fingers from Steve, blindly reaches around to find that bottle of lube and pours a generous amount over his cock. Losing some of the plot, as his hand wraps around and he gives himself a few slow pumps that he works his hips equally into with a soft breath out.
But as his half-lidded gaze takes in Steve spread out for him he shifts in, taking Steve's leg up over his shoulder, thigh to his chest. His hands palm over his hips, directing him towards the right.]
Lay a little on your side for me.
[Hoping to give Steve a deeper angle in this position as he turns him, brushing the head of his cock against him and only waiting just a few seconds more before easing in, almost entirely too consumed with the way Steve feels the second he's inside him.]
Fuck- [The word tumbles out of him in a groan.] You're so tight- so perfect for me- [Praises just as much in free-fall until he completely bottoms out and holds the position there for a second to give Steve time to adjust.] Love the way I stretch you out. You feel incredible.
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He follows Tony's lead, reposed on his side, leg propped up against Tony's chest. He could lean over as far as he wants; Steve is flexible, and something about the angle at which he's reclining and the thin sheen of sweat forming on his skin puts his muscles in sharp relief, each inhale carving out more of his abdomen than should be legal.
And when Tony sinks into him, he feels like he can't breathe, his brows knit tightly, his nerves alight. He doesn't feel any pain, but there's so much pressure from how Tony fills him up, he can hardly place a coherent thought in his head besides "Tony," and that's what he says, over and over again, losing a little breath each time. ]
Move.
[ Finally, another thought. He shifts his hips and feels shivers across his whole body. ]
Please move.
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Staring like a man starving, like he's not already currently buried to the hilt in him. Steve's calls of his name only bring him further into this realm of being unfocused and yet sharply so on every inch of Steve.
But it's when he starts making demands that he finds himself grinning. His free hand drops, trailing from just beneath the center of Steve's ribcage, tips of his fingers pressing in over those well defined muscles. Lower still, teasing over the length of his cock.]
Bossy.
[As teasing as it is reprimanding. But for Steve's efforts he slowly withdraws, like he might stay slow.]
You like telling me what to do? When I've got you underneath me like this?
[Only when he's almost all the way pulled out does he rock his hips inward quickly, slamming himself into Steve in the very next breath.]
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But he also always takes him right to the point, hand around his cock and buried within him, the pressure so high, the pleasure so strong that it hits him with the kind of force he usually associates with battle. ]
You like when I'm--
[ Bossy, he wants to say, but the word doesn't make it out as Tony slams into him, pushing Steve into Tony's hand, causing a fault in his thoughts, an incoherent groan replacing it instead. The arm that isn't keeping him propped up reaches towards Tony, on his side, over his ribcage, grasping and pawing at his chest.
He manages to eke out the words: ]
Just like that.
[ Riding on the breath he exhales with, thought finishing before he can draw another, or else it too would be lost. His head is swimming more than it usually is, alcohol clouding his mind as much as the lust, but he knows what he wants; he's not afraid to chase it, pulling Tony towards him, his hips impatient, pleas just on the tip of his tongue. ]
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I do.
[There's no point in hiding it. In even trying to lie about it. Steve's mouthiness is incredibly hot. When he demands, when he takes too. If Tony were less inebriated and able to focus he might try to hold out on Steve. Tease him until he gets just hot enough under the proverbial collar, until he gets just frustrated enough.
But like this, where he's already deep inside him and his head is spinning and Steve's moaning underneath him, he can't do anything but exactly what Steve wants.]
Like this?
[Asked while he's doing exactly that. Pulling out slow and slamming back into him at that angle, clutching tight to his leg.]
God- look at the way you take me- so fucking gorgeous- you're so good for me like this-
[Words, unfiltered, tumbling out of him while he sets on that mid-paced and hard rhythm in and out of Steve, eyes intermittently locked on Steve's face and then his body, watching the way he sinks into him.]
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The way their bodies twist and wind and tangle together leaves zero doubt in Steve's mind that they were, in part, made for each other. Otherwise, he couldn't think of another, more perfect accident. ]
Like that, like that, fuck me--
[ He can't see it, but the way he looks up at Tony and sees him sometimes with his eyes lowered, it makes his cheeks burn. It's not like he doesn't like to look, too, whenever they're connected together: watching as Tony takes him, as Tony's body is so greedy for him. It's so intimate and private and filthy. ]
You like that, Tony? Like watching the way your cock opens me up -- and -- and fills me in?
[ Before he loses himself completely in the sensation, he has the wherewithal to clench down a little, make it all the tighter for Tony and be good to him, but soon he's a mess, blabbering "don't stop, don't stop" over and over again. ]
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[A murmur to no one. An errant thought that passes by. Not the least of which because it's true. Steve's his, so thoroughly and completely, and there isn't a moment that passes by that he's not in awe of that fact. Especially not when they're tangled together like this.
When Steve lets Tony fuck him. Sometimes that's what it feels like. That Steve's inherently too good for him and this is all some extended spate of luck. After all their time together, he knows it's not so, not like that, but he can't help the thought.
There's a moan first, that he can't help, before an actual answer can even form. As Steve's body just wraps around him, keeps him, and almost feels like inviting him further in- as impossible as that is. Alcohol haze making the thought feel real. His pace picks up just a little, not demanding, but still deep and hard.]
Wouldn't dream of it, gorgeous.
[A warm, easy response to those repeated pleas.]
And I do. Love the way you look when I fuck you open. When I'm this deep inside you and you can't help but beg me not to stop.
[Which clearly is something he's enjoying quite a lot. He curves in just a little, drawing the tip of his finger against the head of Steve's cock and then traces down the length.]
This too? You wanna let me have all of you?
[Said like it might be the best idea he's ever heard.]
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The whole world gets distilled, concentrated down to where they connect: from Steve's thighs up to where he splits, the thrusts slowly driving him delirious with pleasure, and when Tony touches him it's any wonder he doesn't finish right there. His cock twitches with interest, and one hand is balled up into the sheets. The other one flat against his stomach, trying to keep his balance and composure but there's none of it left. ]
You do that, I won't last.
[ Not that it ever really mattered to Tony, who would gladly volunteer to have Steve over and over again, to pleasure him more times than he could count in a row, to lead him to exhaustion. But selfishly, he wants to hold onto this feeling forever, of being taken in this way, each brush against his skin feeling like wildfire. ]
You want that? Want me to come for you? God, Tony, you feel so good--
[ He won't last very long, in either case, but he's sure Tony knows that. ]
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But. It's not quite that simple, seeing as how he's buried deep, to the hilt on each thrust inward. If Steve comes he might very well lose it in every sense of the word. And that should offer some pause for consideration.
It's just that he's a little too drunk to care about that right now. Feels too good to want to stop. Really it's a wonder at all that he hasn't just succumbed completely to the way Steve feels around him and started pounding him into the mattress. Clearly he should be praised for this drunken amount of restraint.]
Always want you to come for me. As much as you'll let me make you.
[It starts tumbling out of him as his hand wraps completely around Steve's cock, timing the way he thrusts his hand around him with his hips still working.]
You're so beautiful like this. I just wanna watch you lose it. Wanna feel you come on my cock. Don't hold back just let me take you there. Fuck- I might come too-
[The only warning he feels like giving, while still riding Steve in that relentlessly slow and deep rhythm. Waiting it out, ready to fall over that edge with him.]
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Yes, right-- just right there, Tony, fuck I'm so close, please--
[ If Tony just looked at him, he'd melt completely under his gaze, so when he takes Steve into his hand, it's little wonder that it doesn't take very long for him to fall headfirst over the edge, making a mess all over Tony's fist and all over his front. But it hardly matters to him, as everything else just bleeds away at the edges, his own moans sounding muffled and dreamlike as it takes complete control of his body for a good few seconds.
There's always been a lot of trust here, between them, even when they'd felt like they had no choice. Now, it's freely given, and Steve knows that he couldn't be safer in another's arms, nor happier. He reaches for Tony, then, braces against him, rocks his hips back and forth so he can help Tony finish too, so he can pull Tony along with him. ]
Come on, Tony, come for me, I want you to.
[ He's spent but greedy for it, looking up at Tony, eyes locked with his, writhing underneath him, whispering sweet encouraging things to him. ]
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He'd watch this for hours, if he could. Give this to Steve as much as Steve would let him. It's unfortunate he's buried so deep inside him because his body's got other plans. Has almost no choice. Not with how good Steve feels around him, and not with how incredible he looks when he's coming. When he sounds like this underneath him.
He doesn't really need to ask for it. Tony lets Steve's leg down, just so he can be closer, mingling in that fresh mess as he presses himself against Steve, hands digging into the bed at the sides of his head, meeting him while he moves. Finally close enough, his lips drop and press against Steve in uneven moves, breath and groans spilling out of his mouth while he loses a bit of control.]
Fuck- fuck- Steve-
[Clipped and about the only verbal warning he can manage, a few thrusts harder as if he could really get himself that much deeper inside Steve and then that's it for him. Working through his orgasm by pumping his hips a few more times, a little harder, and then settling inside Steve while he comes, forehead falling, pressed against Steve's as everything else clears out around them.
It's just Steve and him and the world could cease to exist in that moment that'd probably be alright. The shivers and aftershocks feel almost just as good and he doesn't realize he's smiling for a handful of seconds, drunken haze and lust still keeping him slightly chugging behind normal speed.
Despite all that there's only one thing he seems to want to say in a warm, easy murmur.]
I love you. [Between one press of lips and then it seems there's more.] I love you. You don't even know- just how much- [He might be drunk and riding a very intense afterglow but that doesn't make it any less true.]
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