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He’d always hated being backstage. Once he was out on the big stages, lights and cameras on him he could deliver, a Stark had to deliver, but there was something about the lingering smell of dust and dried paint that triggered a Pavlovian response that made him feel like a scared kid again.
He loathed it, the fact that his masks had such an obvious weakness, a chink that no amount of tinkering could fix. So, he did what any logical person would do when engineering fails.
He buried those thoughts, squashed them with a vengeance and shoved the remains deep into the dark corners of his mind. The only external signs that anything was wrong was that he was fidgeting, tapping rhythmic patterns on his fingers, and that unlike normal, he was not cracking jokes but deadly silent, his mouth cosplaying Steve’s signature scowl.
Thankfully though, at least he had something to distract him from the nerves threatening to drown him. He got to see the brilliant sight of Steve struggling to get into his suit. Why he chose to put the suit on now, backstage instead of before they came to the venue is beyond Tony, but he’s not complaining.
He thinks that he might be the first person to have ever seen Captain America almost fall over while unceremoniously hopping around on one leg, trying to get his foot into the blue tights of the suit. He would’ve laughed, except it just so happened that any of Steve’s modesty had gone down the drain after getting into a relationship with him, and he managed to get a great view of his ass.
On the bright side, he didn’t feel scared anymore. On the not so bright side, his blood was rapidly leaving his brain, and he honestly didn’t know if he could present with a hard on. Sure it’d be hidden in the Ironman suit, but it hurt like a motherfucker when it’s trapped in the suit, the sleek alloy catered to his body, which left no room for error.. or boners.
“Tony, are you alright?” Steve asked, his back still turned as he pulled on the rest of the suit, doing little to hide his plump ass, god he’d love to spread those cheeks, just feel them. Get his hands all over them, get his tongue in them, get his fingers in them. Get him screaming by the time he was done with him, make him a writhing mes-
“Tony?” Steve asks again, jolting him from his thoughts with a start. His cock now fully interested, pressing against the fabric of his Armani suit pants.
“Yeah, I’m all good.” He got out a bit too quickly. Steve clearly wasn’t convinced and turned to face him. He hastily went to cross his legs, but all that it meant was that there was a constant, almost teasing pressure. Steve looked down at his crossed legs, evidently not fooled, his brows furrowing.
Steve opened his mouth, as if to say something, before snapping it shut, and having a quick look around. He seemed to engage himself in a very tense staring contest with the wall, he could practically see the cogs turning. Honestly, he was surprised that Steve wasn’t reprimanding him, or perhaps telling him he could deal with it at home, but he was confused about what had Steve so torn up.
Going on in five minutes, be ready in the wings.
A crackly voice came over the backstage speakers, making him jump a little, and Steve looked up sharply, before taking a deep breath.
“Fuck it.”
Before he could process Steve was beside him, a hand on his hip, the other cradling the back of his head as he was pulled into a bruising kiss. Steve walked them until they were pressed up against the wall, not breaking kiss. He could feel Steve’s dick rapidly coming to life against his thigh, straining through the fabric of his suit.
His brain wasn’t functioning, most coherent thought seeming far out of reach but he managed to pull together the last of the blood that wasn’t rapidly going to his cock to think. What. The. Fuck. Steve, the guy who would blush at every innuendo he would make, Steve, as in Mr Patriotic and Pure, Steve, as in CAPTAIN MOTHERFUCKING AMERICA, had pulled him into a rough make out session with him backstage, where any of the staff could watch him get absolutely taken apart.
He moaned quickly into Steve’s mouth, as he started to rut against his thigh. He needed friction, in the kind of way he hadn’t felt since he was about fourteen. This.. this side of Steve was something he’d never seen, his pupils were blown, wild with lust, his mouth forming a perfect little ‘o’.
It’s not like he’d never seen Steve horny, far from it, but whether it’d been fast and sensual, or slow and lazy it’d always been lovemaking, such an intimate and caring act. He’d been every bit the gentleman that you would expect from Captain America. This though, this was different, this was quick and passionate and downright filthy.
Steve had started to rut against his own thigh, in an almost frantic way, and he was letting out these little curses under his breath which drove him absolutely crazy. Usually he’d be lucky to hear much out of him when he finished, but Steve seemed to genuinely not be able to control himself, still making out with fervour.
Steve pulled away from the kiss, and he looked like a fucking wet dream, teenage him would be creaming at the thought. However, he didn’t go back in for the kiss, instead he placed his mouth right by his ear, breath hot and ticklish in a way that made him shiver.
“You have no idea what you do to me, do you? Strutting around like you own the place, I just wanna, fuck, wanna pin you and fuck some sense into you.” Steve whispers, his tone low and gravelly in a way that made him shudder, starting to thrust faster against Steve’s thigh, as he met Steve’s punishing pace.
He barely registered through his state of frenzied lust as his lids flutter, head lolling back as he opened his mouth to moan. He felt Steve’s gloved hand clamp shut over it.
“Can’t keep yourself quiet, can you?” Steve husked, his voice raw and taken apart, and holy shit, he was pretty sure his brain just short circuited. This, he’d always had fantasies about this, Steve losing control, but he’d always had such a chokehold on his ever wholesome and perfect demeanour. Thinking about it could already bring him on edge, but experiencing it was a completely different ballpark. He’d thought Steve hadn’t got it in him, or if he had, he hadn’t wanted to.
He was sorely mistaken.
Steve fucked his thigh like a drowning man who’d finally, finally found a pool of water, breath hitching as he cursed again, his Brooklyn drawl coming out. He looked so damn pretty like this, his usually perfect hair splayed out at odd angles and plastered to his forehead, a light sheen of sweat on his skin.
Going on in two minutes, be ready side stage.
Steve’s head whipped up in an instant, searching for the sound of the voice before visibly relaxing when he realised that it was just the backstage speakers. It was bordering on wholesome the way that, rather than step away at the noise, Steve pulled him closer, as if to shield him.
That wholesomeness didn’t last long, as his dick twitched expectantly against Steve’s thigh, who let out a low, rumbling laugh at that. Steve started to roll his hips, not wasting anytime, picking up the pace he’d set.
“Wish I could fuck you, spread your cheeks, fuck, and make you scream so damn loud the whole fuckin auditorium will know what I’m doing.”
TonyHe moaned, the soundit muffleding against Steve’s hand and his hips stuttering. His brain was spinning-, where in the fuck had he learnt how to talk like this?.
His hands scrabbled for something to grab onto, something to anchor him and he found himself clutching onto Steve’s sides. The familiar coil of pleasure that had taken residence in his stomach was now taut, and almost blinding in it’s insistence.
Going on in 60 seconds, get ready in the wings.
He was about to fall off this precipice, his thrusts becoming erratic, before his hips snapped up once, twice, and he was gone. He’d only come this hard in his life.. probably never, his vision whited out as he felt like he was damn flying.
He managed to come down from his own high in time to see Steve chasing his own orgasm, fucking his thigh with reckless abandon. Now that he had most of the blood back in his own brain, he felt a visceral sense of satisfaction. He’s always wanted to see it, Steve’s resolve break, as even in bed there was always a shred of it, a tightness lodged deep in his spine that he hadn’t been able to shake.
No, this was such a pure version of Steve it hit him hard with such a pure wave of ecstasy, of love and compassion for him. He knew that Steve was about to come, his breath turning into a small string of curses before he finally finished, his hips jerking as he moaned his name, loud enough to fill the surrounding area, his face as relaxed as he’d seen him.. in ever.
“Where did that come from?? No, nevermind, doesn’t matter, I’m holding you to what you said.” He spoke rapidly, breaking the spell. Steve’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink colour, his face warring between embarrassment and awe, like he’d surprised himself, before nodding.
He grinned, brushing the hair plastered to Steve’s forehead before giving him a light kiss. It was a gentle thing, in sharp contrast to just mere moments, and he hummed happily against Steve’s mouth. He would’ve been content to just, kiss.
Going on in 15 seconds.
His shoulders jumped to his ears, and Steve’s head snapped up, before swearing violently under his breath, as he desperately tried to find his cowl. He made his way over to the armour, back open, expectantly waiting for him.
Going on in 10 seconds.
Steve pulled the cowl over his messy sex hair, fiddling to get the strap shut, while he willed the armour to close faster. The mechanical whirring that was usually soothing seeming too slow, a source of anxiety.
Going on in 5
The armour finally closed, as they all but sprinted to the wings.
4
Steve took a shuddering breath, looking like he was bracing himself.
3
Steve squared his shoulders, standing a little more upright, his subtle postural shifts that turned him from his boyfriend to Captain America
2
Steve flashed him a cheeky grin, and he grinned back even if Steve couldn’t see it
1
Steve’s face set into a line, looking like the leader the world wanted him to be.
As they walked out on stage, the auditorium erupted into applause. Steve stepped up to the podium, and started to talk. It was the similar monotonous speech that was drawn out for the sake of press appearances, which could’ve been summarised to a few sentences at most.
However, at this moment he was incredibly glad he had the faceplate because while Steve was giving his speech, every bit the icon of justice and purity the world made him out to be, he had cooling come slowly sliding down his leg. If you looked closely, the crotch of his uniform was stained just a shade darker. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to think of backstages without getting a hard on.
God he loved Steve.