Work Text:
Tony leans on the doorframe of the gym, the fluffy edges of his robe brushing his thighs. It's his favorite garment; light and soft, crimson and gold.
He leisurely sips a Cosmo of the same shade of red while his eyes caress Steve’s back, muscles flexing as he pounds the reinforced punching bags. He’s wearing only a tight wife-beater and some sweatpants.
It’s an irresistible spectacle; one of Tony’s favorites.
Tony stalls for an entire minute, merely enjoying the show, before he takes a sip and walks over to Steve, giving in to yet another temptation.
Sometimes, when Steve is immersed in his training, he gets lost in his own head and doesn’t hear Tony’s approach. Steve’s knee-jerk reaction to someone startling him is punching the other person square in the face.
Tony is willing to take the risk. A broken cheekbone would only make oral sex all the more interesting.
It’s no secret Tony is nothing but a slut for all sorts of pain, especially when Steve is in the equation.
When he’s close enough to count the droplets of sweat on Steve’s back, Tony rolls the dice and puts a hand on Steve’s bare shoulder.
Steve’s muscles tense up, but that’s the only thing that indicates surprise.
Steve relaxes under his touch and Tony slides his hand down Steve’s back, savoring the curve of each muscle under his palm. He resolutely ignores the infinitesimal part of his brain that is disappointed.
“You are a sight for sore eyes, darling,” Tony says. His hand stops its descend only when he meets the waistband of Steve’s pants, his fingers teasing around the hem.
Steve sighs. “I wasn’t finished with my workout, Tony.”
Tony smiles as Steve turns to face him. He sips his Cosmo as his other hand moves to Steve’s abdomen. He feels every single muscle of his six-pack as he brushes his hand up, lingering on Steve’s pecs before sliding up his neck.
Steve’s eyes darken with desire when Tony brings his fingers in Steve’s hair and tightens them.
“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in cutting it short?” Tony’s sultry voice lingers on the words, filling them with barely-concealed innuendos. His eyes fall to Steve’s lips and then down to Steve’s neck, slightly covered with sweat.
All he can think about is tasting it.
Before Steve can reply, Tony leans in and licks a stripe up Steve’s jugular. It’s purely selfish, aimed to savor and not as much to make Steve feel it.
It serves both purposes anyway.
Steve grips his shoulders in a strong vice and moves Tony’s entire body in front of the punching bag. His Cosmo splashes all over his hand. Tony can’t find it in himself to care.
“No.”
Steve’s voice is firm, but his body inches closer to Tony’s, effectively trapping him between Steve’s body and the punching bag. His eyes are heated and hard, hands still on Tony’s shoulder, and that’s going to get painful real soon.
Tony doesn’t mind.
“Your words tiptoe, but your body struts, darling,” Tony says.
He doesn’t wince when Steve hits the punching bag behind him.
Sometimes, Tony wonders whether Steve is even able to express emotions through something other than violence.
Most times, he knows the answer.
“Just don’t interrupt my workouts again, Tony.” Steve is trying to sound stern, but Tony can hear the give in his tone. Steve gets closer and closer, until he presses his body against Tony’s.
Tony feigns reproach. “I just had a bath, love. Now I’m all dirty again.” In spite of his words, Tony takes his hand to the small of Steve’s back and presses him closer, empty glass forgotten in his hand.
“You’ll never be anything but dirty,” Steve says.
The words go straight to Tony’s cock, and he moans aloud.
Steve’s mouth crashes onto him, hard and demanding, his hands sliding up in Tony’s hair, tugging and pulling, and Tony reciprocates blissfully.
He opens his mouth and lets Steve deepen the kiss, offering his lips and tongue and soul up for Steve to claim, to take, to mess up.
There’s nothing sweeter than intoxication by Steve.
“Besides,” Steve says, interrupting the kiss, and Tony chases his lips because that won’t do, he needs Steve, and he’s not had his fill of kissing yet.
Steve tugs at his hair to keep him in place, eliciting spikes of pain that make Tony groan. “Besides,” Steve repeats, dangerous eyes staring deep into his, “You’ll be much dirtier by the time I’m done with you.”
Tony arches up into him, moaning shamelessly. “Please, Steve,” he says, rough. He doesn’t even care he’s already begging. “You know you can do anything you want to me.”
Steve smiles, pleased with Tony’s words. “Just what I thought,” he says, before kissing him again.
I love you, Tony doesn’t say.