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As soon as he walked in to the living room, Tony only had eyes for Bruce. He affected a jaunty swagger as he made his way over the where Bruce sat, curled up in a recliner with an honest-to-God paperback book held lightly in his hands. The weight of the press conference slid from his shoulders as he prowled forward in a walk that was designed to catch Bruce’s eye.
Tony cast aside his sun glasses just in time for Bruce to look up at him, all brown-eyed and beautiful and soft. Bruce smiled gently at him and started to say something, but Tony didn’t have time for that. He snatched up Bruce’s head in his hands and yanked him in for a deep, searing kiss.
He swallowed Bruce’s slight note of protest between his teeth. Bruce’s mouth was helpfully open and so Tony leaned in, slipping his tongue deftly around slick skin as Bruce quaked beneath him. He moved forward, pressing himself down so they were chest to chest. He could feel Bruce panting beneath him, heard the book fall from Bruce’s fingertips. Bruce reached up to tangle a hand in his shirt and—
Shoved him off.
Tony stumbled back, a little confused, and studied the way Bruce closed his eyes in tension, worried his lower lip with his teeth. Bruce ran a hand through his curls and Tony shuddered in the raw want that simple motion stirred in him.
“It’s… a green day, Tony.”
Tony slumped. “What?” he asked, trying to reign in the petulant sound of but what about what I want? “Then why are you sitting there looking so fuckable?”
Bruce laughed a little at that. He brought his hands down to his waist to worry them together. Only then did he open his eyes to stare up at Tony. “I don’t try and look that way, you know.”
“But you do.” Tony placed his hands on his hips. “Seems to be your natural state of being.” He wanted to lean in again and claim Bruce’s lips with his own, but he held back. “Something you want to talk about?” Tony asked eventually, if only to distract himself from the wild thought of yanking Bruce into the next room and seeing what happened.
“Not really.” Bruce reached down and picked up his book again. Tony ran his eyes over the long curve of Bruce’s back as he did so. “Nothing really happened. I’ve just been on edge. I don’t want to get too excited and have another incident.”
Tony watched as he opened the book again and ran his long, broad fingers over the pages. It made him want to suck them into his mouth. He bit his lip. “Okay.” He pointed at the door behind him. “Then I need to go jack off, because you are way too sexy right now. I’m not in a proper state of mind.”
He turned on his heel and began marching towards the door, already undoing the knot in his tie. He was so focused on all the thoughts of Bruce clouding his head that he almost missed it when Bruce actually spoke up.
“Mind if I join you?”
Tony whirled around again. “You just said—”
Bruce held up a hand, and it was sudden enough that Tony’s protest caught in his throat. He swallowed thickly as Bruce gazed down at his book, his eyes working to finish the paragraph he was on. After a moment he dog-eared the page and shut the book, setting it aside. His eyes shifted up to fix Tony with a hot, piercing gaze, and Tony had to concentrate on swallowing again and remembering to breathe.
“I know what I said.” Slowly, languidly, Bruce unfolded himself from the chair and began to make his way over to Tony. “But I had a thought.” He reached out as if to touch Tony, but hovered a millimeter away. His touch ghosted over Tony’s shoulder, not even brushing against his suit jacket. “If we don’t touch, if you don’t say anything too stupid… I can make you come?”
Bruce looked up at him beneath his eyelashes, his face open and neutral and hopeful. Tony had to swallow again to steel himself from pulling Bruce into a kiss right then and there.
“I really want to kiss you like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I know you do.” Bruce laughed, and it was light and cheery with just a touch of melancholy. Then, his face hardened in a way that went straight to Tony’s dick. “Go lie down on the bed. Don’t touch yourself. Don’t say anything.”
Tony managed to pull away, slowly, as the orders filtered through his brain. He took a step backwards, not wanting to tear his eyes from the intense look on Bruce’s face. When he tripped over the carpet in his distraction, he finally turned. He stumbled into the bedroom and crawled up onto the bed. He didn’t even remove his socks as he lay down, arms at his sides, already feeling arousal flaring up through every inch of him.
He stared at the ceiling for a moment before realizing that Bruce had stalled in the doorway. He turned to look at him, leaning against the doorframe by one shoulder, his hand draped lightly over his hip. He was gazing down at Tony from across the room with an expression of mild desire. So mild that Tony knew it was an act.
“Do you have to be all the way over there?” Tony shifted a little to lessen the tight feeling in his pants.
Bruce snapped forward. He walked quickly to the side of the bed. “I told you not to talk.”
“Who’s talking?” Tony shrugged. He watched as Bruce crawled up on the bed as well, hanging precariously near the edge. Bruce sat himself upright and rested his head in his hand as he leaned against the headboard. He brought his legs up to his chest and gazed down at Tony. Tony thought, for a split second, that the man looked like he was about to enjoy a warm summer’s day, not assisted masturbation.
“Tony, don’t speak. For this to work you have to do everything I say. But you can still leave or stop at any time, okay?”
“Bruce, when you say things like that leaving is the furthest thing from my mind.”
“Right.” Bruce began to disentangle himself and rise from the bed. “This isn’t going to work.”
“Wait!” Tony shot out an arm to grab Bruce, but stopped himself just in time. “Shutting up, shutting up. See?” He redirected his arm to slap his hand over his mouth. He gazed wide-eyed up at Bruce and made a few muffled sounds against the palm of his hand.
Bruce paused, looking down at him heatedly. Tony really wanted to comment on the sexy professor vibe he was giving off as he gazed over his glasses, but his own hand on his mouth reminded him to stay silent. Bruce roved his eyes over Tony for a moment, catching here and there on the line of his hip, the stretch of skin just past his sleeve, the curve of his neck, before finally resting on his fingers splayed over his mouth.
“You may answer this question. How many shirts are you wearing?”
“Suit jacket counts, right?” Tony said through his fingers. “Five.”
“How are you not constantly dying of heat stroke?” Bruce shook his head and smiled, glancing away. Tony let him have a moment to himself before it was too much to bear.
“So, can I answer that question, too? Because the answer is that I’m immune to hotness from spending so much time in your presence.” He waggled his eyebrows at him. He delighted in the little shiver that went through Bruce.
When Bruce looked back, Tony’s mirth fell. The gaze Bruce levelled at him was…hungry. Tony had never wished more that their big green problem didn’t exist.
“Take out your pocket square,” Bruce said levelly. Tony hastened to do so. “Now, ball it up and put it in your mouth.”
Tony gulped and glanced down at the royal-purple square clutched in his hands. It was soft and smooth, and his hands were already working of their own accord to tangle it up. He worked it between his teeth and tasted dry and silk.
“Good. You’re doing very well, Tony.” Bruce was still looking at him intently. “Now, remove your tie completely.” Bruce shifted back into his earlier position as Tony obeyed. With his legs curled up, he almost could have passed for bored, or merely politely interested, but Tony knew better. Especially when he said, “Now tie it around your mouth. Gag yourself.”
He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry as he wrapped the silk around his head (green, he noted. And really, he hadn’t color-coordinated it that way on purpose). He gave it a quick over-under hand knot on the back of his head, catching a few hairs as he did so. He liked the way it pulled at him, and if he was honest he even liked the way it forced him to be silent.
Bruce reached out a hand like he wanted to help, or maybe just touch, but then he dropped it. He picked at a loose thread on the cuff of his pants. “All right, now jacket off.”
It was really a good thing Tony couldn’t say anything, because on a normal day there was no way he would have let that one slide. As it was, though, he merely sat up slightly and sloughed off the jacket, tossing it to the foot of the bed.
“Vest, now. One button at a time.”
Tony was shivering, and he couldn’t look away as he forced his fingers to slide the slick plastic through threaded holes. It was a low-cut vest, with only a few buttons, but it still took far too long to undo all the way. He threw it aside as soon as he could and began to work on his button-up shirt, but Bruce stopped him.
“I didn’t say you could do that yet.” Tony watched as he bit at his lower lip in concentration. “You’re going to do this one more slowly.”
Tony cursed whatever had possessed him to wear so many layers as he slid his hands up to the neck of his shirt. He slipped his thumb under the collar, running it over the edge of his collar bone, before pinching at the top button and working it free.
He wondered what he must look like, as he lay there slowly unworking button after button, his mouth tied off, and his hands shaking to move more quickly, but held back by Bruce’s calm gaze and slow, even breaths. Finally, blessedly, he reached the final button and he was so sensitized he could hear it squeak through the fabric as he undid it.
He pulled his shirt apart and sat up enough to shrug it off.
“T-shirt off.”
Tony wrapped his arms around the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, over his head in one fluid motion. He was left in only his tank top, and he started to reach for that too, but Bruce stopped him again with a tut.
“No. Lie back down.”
With a groan, Tony slammed his head into the pillow. He moved his fingers at his side reflexively, desperately, wanting to get it over with. He wanted to tell Bruce all the things he was doing to him. Intellectually he knew he could simply reach up and untie his gag, but he didn’t. He just writhed there for a moment, his eyes locked to Bruce’s.
“We’re going to work under the clothes for a bit, Tony,” Bruce said after a moment. “Right hand only. Left stays still, or you’ll never get to use it.” That hot gaze was back as Tony moved his hand up to ghost under the hem of his shirt. His skin prickled and twitched at his own touch, and he let out a frustrated sigh.
“Slide your hand up, under.” Tony obeyed. “Good. Feel all your skin there? That’s what I feel, when I touch you. This spot is my favorite.” He reached out a hand and hovered it over Tony’s body. Tony mirrored his motions carefully, moving as Bruce did, to feel the dusting of hair across his stomach.
Tony realized he was trying to talk around the gag. Trying desperately to tell Bruce to just touch him. That it would all be okay if they could just fuck. But Bruce paid him no mind. He just floated his hand over Tony’s body, mere inches away, and Tony could do nothing but follow his directions.
They drew up the triangle of his hair. They circled around his arc reactor, feeling the join where skin met metal. Tony had to shift up and adjust so that his shirt rode high as he brushed a hand over his nipples, shuddering at the feel.
“Take it in your fingers.” Tony obeyed, pinching the nub of flesh. He groaned as he tweaked his own nipple. It was already pert and hard, begging to be touched. “Good,” Bruce breathed. “You can bring your other hand up. Touch yourself the same on the other side.”
Tony shoved his hand up his shirt and pinched himself, hard, desperate. He keened as he did so, working his tongue against the gag. He could feel spittle welling up behind it and it only made him shudder more as he touched his chest.
He could feel Bruce’s gaze on him, appraising him. He could feel that calm, detached judgment as Bruce watched him twist and brush and twirl his aching nipples. He wanted to pull his shirt off and feel cool air on his skin. He wanted to get naked right then and he wished, not for the first time, that he had invented something that could make him naked instantly. With a snap of his fingers.
“Pull your shirt up, but not off. I want to see you touch yourself.”
Tony groaned again at the words. He threw one hand down and yanked his shirt up the rest of the way, holding it under his chin so that his chest was exposed, bare before the world. He almost missed Bruce’s breathy moan of good as his hands went back to work.
He twisted them between his thumb and middle finger, brushed the pad of his forefinger across them. He placed his palms flat when it got too much, when they were hot and sore and he felt absurd for getting off on nipple play.
Bruce leaned in, his eyes falling to Tony’s chest for a moment before snapping back up to lock him with an intense stare. Tony begged without words, wanting to feel his tongue or his hands or his anything on his skin. But Bruce merely pursed his lips and blew, letting warm-hot air cascade over Tony’s sensitized skin, leaving him shaking and shuddering at the lack of contact.
“You’re doing so well, Tony.” Bruce was so close that Tony could feel every puff of air as he spoke. “Leave your left hand where it is. You need a little more love there. Touch yourself there until it hurts.” Tony heard the little needy break of Bruce’s voice as he talked, and he watched as Bruce schooled himself back into calm complacency. “Undo your belt with your other hand.”
Tony shot his hand down and gave a deep, heartfelt moan to let Bruce know what he thought of that order. He worked his fingers against the metal and leather of his belt buckle and managed to get it loose one-handed. He tried not to distract himself too much as he continued to pet his chest.
“Good. Undo the top button. Very good.” Bruce pulled back, worrying his lower lip again. His eyes fell down to watch Tony undo his pants. Tony took a little risk and unzipped as well, feeling relief as his straining erection breathed easier. Bruce’s pupils dilated as he moved, and Tony didn’t hold back against the moan that struggled to escape from behind the gag.
“Taking initiative, are we?” Bruce laughed, but his eyes were still fixed to the bulge in Tony’s pants. “Very well, pants all the way off.”
Tony struggled to get them off one-handed. He had to shimmy and twist, and he nearly lost sight of swirling his fingers against his nipple. A quick glare from Bruce brought him back to himself, and he slipped his pants off.
“Socks, too. You look ridiculous.”
The gag strangled his answering laugh, but he slipped them off as well. He lay back, then, clad only in his high-riding tank top and what nature gave him, his cock tipping back to rest against his stomach. It throbbed as Bruce licked his lips at the sight.
“Only you would go commando while wearing five shirts.”
Tony twitched his hips up a little, giving the hint. Bruce rolled his eyes and started to lean forward before catching himself. He sat back and wrapped his arms around his legs, eyeing Tony appreciatively.
“Touch yourself.” As Tony hastened to obey, he added, “Lightly.”
With a groan Tony wrapped his hand around his cock (fucking lightly) and began feather-light strokes up and down. His other hand was still working his chest, and it was beginning to burn hot and needy to fit the hot neediness of his cock. He concentrated on the swirl of his thumb, the press of his palm, and grounded himself in Bruce’s appraising look.
They never looked away from one another.
It was an eternity interspersed with lighter and slower and doing well, Tony and Tony was pushing his hips up, desperate for more contact and more friction as Bruce unwound him with words. He writhed against the smooth sheets and wished that they didn’t have such a high thread count. Something, anything to give him purchase and friction and not feel so weightless and so needy.
“Stop. Drop your hands.”
Tony groaned against the gag in his mouth and managed to force his hands to lie by his side. He lay there for a moment, still, and felt the smarting in his chest and the heat between his legs, and thought of all the times he was going to have to fuck Bruce Banner to make up for this.
Bruce began to shuffle away and Tony felt a thrill of fear shoot through him. He thought he had messed up, disobeyed somehow to make Bruce need to leave. Or, perhaps he had been too sexy and Bruce needed to gather his thoughts (which was flattering, but so not what he needed right then).
But the other man only twisted around to dig into the table beside the bed. Tony watched the way his shirt pulled against the muscles in his back and reminded himself to focus on breathing through the press of silk in his mouth.
Bruce turned back to him with a tiny bottle of lubricant and beautiful, devilish smile.
“Left knee up. Against your chest,” he said as he uncapped the bottle. Tony brought his knee to his chest tightly, already feeling mixed trepidation and eagerness. “Hold out your hand.”
Even then, as Bruce squeezed out a generous portion of lube onto his waiting fingers, they didn’t touch. Bruce recapped the bottle and curled up into himself again. Tony watched him for a moment, rotating his wrist to catch the lube that threatened to roll off of his hand.
“Reach down.” Tony obeyed. “Press one finger against your hole.” Tony did so with a shudder. “Get it nice and wet. Mm, like that.” Bruce’s eyes were lidded as he watched Tony twirl the pad of his forefinger against his entrance. Tony watched him lick his lips as he barely pressed his finger inside himself.
“Hmm, no. Not like that.”
Tony let out a choked noise as Bruce began to shift around again. He started to draw his hands away, afraid Bruce would try and leave again. Bruce’s laugh drew him up short.
“No, no, I only meant the view.” He made a twirling motion with his hand. “On your knees.”
Tony didn’t have to be told twice. He rolled over quickly and drew his knees up to his chest, spacing them widely apart as he dipped his head down into the pillow. One hand was still wet with lube, waiting to be used, while the other gave him balance on the bed. He got a little cheeky and brushed his arm against Bruce’s knee.
He was totally unprepared for the low growl Bruce gave him in response.
“I decide if we touch.” His voice was rough and hot and dangerous and it went straight to Tony’s cock, making it twitch in appreciation. He moaned and then choked as Bruce reached down and wrapped his long, broad fingers around his wrist. Bruce yanked Tony’s supporting arm up and pressed it down into the mussed bedspread. He held him there for a moment, their only point of contact fingers around wrist, before giving his next command.
“Two fingers. Scissor them.”
Tony moaned again and reached behind himself to press his middle and forefinger inside. It was too much too soon, and it made him burn with desire and want and neediness and the only thing that kept him sane was Bruce’s tight grip on his wrist. He buried his face in the pillow to catch the few cries that could get past his gag as he twisted inside himself.
He began to turn his head to Bruce, but Bruce scoffed at him. “Don’t look at me. You haven’t earned it.”
Tony screwed his eyes shut and turned the other way. He was seeing stars as he felt around inside himself, finally brushing against that bundle of nerves with a gasp.
Bruce tsked again and drew away, stopped touching him at all, leaving Tony to wallow absently. “I didn’t say you could touch yourself there.” It took Tony a moment to realize what he meant, and he let out a breathless groan as he redirected his fingers away from that pleasurable spot. “Add a third finger.”
Tony did, and it was so much so fast that his eyes flew open even though he should have known, should have braced himself. Some frazzled part of his mind wondered what Bruce was seeing, what he was thinking, as Tony bent himself double and fucked himself with his own hand.
He heard shuffling again and risked a glance over to see Bruce pulling a thick, black plug, flared at the base with a nub on it, from the drawer. Tony said something that would have been fuck had it not been swallowed up by the cloth in his mouth. Bruce glanced over at him, smiling pleasantly.
“Fingers out,” Bruce demanded. With a hitching sigh Tony dropped his hand to the covers. He raised it above his head like his other hand and clutched at the pillow as he tried to steady himself. “Now, hold still.”
Tony tried, oh did he try, to hold perfectly still as Bruce pressed the tip of the dildo against his entrance. Tony could feel that it was slick with more lubricant and that made him cant his hips back, then forward to rub his weeping cock against his own thigh. He was keening with desire as the toy breached him slowly, achingly slowly. He wanted to touch himself, to wrap a hand around his cock as Bruce slid it inside inch by throbbing inch until Tony was completely full and lying there with his ass in the air, trembling.
He was an offering to Bruce; one that the other man couldn’t take.
“Mm,” Bruce hummed again. Tony choked at the feel of his hot breath against the small of his back. “I do like this view. But, I get the feeling you want to touch yourself.” At Tony’s furious nod, Bruce laughed. Tony turned to watch him rearranging himself to his bored-lounging position.
“Lie on your back again.”
Tony moved more slowly this time to lie on his back. The toy shifted and moved inside him, sending shocks of pleasure through his system as the nub brushed against his most sensitive areas. He could feel it filling him and completing him and his jaw ached to tell Bruce how good it felt.
Something must have shone in his eyes as he settled his hips down against the mattress, because Bruce smiled beatifically down at him. “Hands up. Remove the gag.”
He threw his hands up and yanked the tie off and over his head. He had to lean over to spit out the pocket square into a wet, crumpled mess. He started to turn and say something, words like fuck me and I’d do anything for you hot on his lips. But he froze as Bruce caught his gaze, holding him quiet in his intensity.
“I’m going to make you scream, Tony Stark.”
Bruce’s hands were on his hips in a flash, fingers gripping tightly enough to leave bruises, pressing him down into the bed so that the plug inside him twisted and turned and pressed up into that most perfect spot inside him. A shout bubbled out of Tony’s mouth before he could do anything to stop it.
“Bruce, please!”
He wasted no time drive Tony’s hips down again, and again into the mattress, forcing him to get fucked on the toy. “How does it feel, Tony?” Bruce asked, and his tone was so mild and calm that Tony had to let out another laughing shout.
“Good. So good, please, Bruce. Please!”
“You want my hands on you?” He ground him down. “Helping you fuck yourself?” Twisted his hips. “I bet you want me to touch your cock, too?” Forced a scream to tear from Tony’s throat.
Tony gasped for breath. He was seeing stars at each burst of pleasure as the toy hit him just right, just right. His cock was bobbing against his stomach as he begged. “Please, Bruce. Please, I just want you.”
Bruce let out another low, feral growl and Tony had just a flash to be afraid as Bruce flipped him over to lie on his stomach again. Bruce pressed against his back, covering him, his hips driving against Tony’s filled ass as his hands came up and grabbed Tony’s wrists and slammed them into the mattress. Tony felt his cock rubbing against the bed and it felt so good that he was moaning again. Continuously. Never stopped, really.
“You want me to fuck you, Tony?” Bruce began to cant his hips downward, rubbing against Tony and moving the toy within him. “You want me to fuck you so I’ll change?”
Tony was choking on the sheets but he managed to push his hips up, against Bruce, then down into the bed as he fucked the mattress with abandon. “Please,” he said again, his witty banter gone in favor of wet, desperate begging. “Need you. Need it.”
“That is what you want.” Bruce laughed above him and thrust down again. Tony felt his eyes flutter shut and he could almost believe, for just a second, that Bruce was actually inside him and filling him and taking him. “You want me to fuck you until I come inside you and grow. You want me to split you open with my huge cock until the other guy is here and then let him fuck you, too.”
Bruce’s voice was low and dangerous, and just this side of the other guy that when he said, “That’s what I want,” Tony came with a strangled shout into the covers.
He realized he was babbling, sobbing into the pillow as the wet spot formed beneath him. Most of it was yes and please as he shook and shuddered to a peak.
Bruce covered him for a moment as Tony panted and struggled to catch his breath. Tony was boneless as Bruce pulled away and rearranged himself like he was enjoying that warm summer’s day again.
Tony managed to flop his head to the side and look up at Bruce. He felt sticky and too-full and over stimulated and uncomfortable as he said, “You asshole. You aren’t even breathing heavy.”
Bruce laughed and arched an eyebrow at him. Tony panted there for a moment longer before Bruce leaned in and began to help him clean up. The dildo was removed without preamble, eliciting a tired moan, and then Bruce rolled him over and began running a cloth over his stomach. After a moment, Bruce gave up and merely covered the wet spot on the bed with the towel before stretching out again.
He flexed like a cat, arms over his head, and graced Tony with another smile that was light and cheery with just a touch of melancholy. “Told you I wouldn't be able to do much,” he said.
Tony laughed, and it was enough of an exertion that he had to catch his breath again. “No,” he said after a moment. “I’d say you did plenty.”
He reached out and tangled his hand in Bruce’s, and they enjoyed that warm summer’s day together.