Eyes On Me

by KandiSheek

Summary:

Steve has never once talked to Tony without seeing the wheels spinning behind his eyes, never seen him be still. It bothers him more than it should, so much so that he can't help but do something about it.

But now that he has Tony here, pinned against the wall, giving Steve his undivided attention for the first time ever... Steve doesn't really know what to do with it.

Thankfully, Tony knows it for him.

Notes:

Good news! I've finished writing the rest of my Kinkune prompts! Now all I need to do is find the will to edit them and toss them out into the universe, and then I'll be DONE!! Thank you to everyone still following along, and I hope you enjoy this one!

Kinktober Prompt 27: Immobilization

If Steve were asked, he would say that the greatest enigma of the future is Tony fucking Stark.

It's not even a contest, really. From the moment Steve first met him, Tony has been nothing but contradictory. He's polite despite his sharp tongue, well-groomed yet smeared with engine grease, charming and deadly in the same breath. He never does what is expected of him with such a gleeful contrarianism that it borders on obsessive. And yet he's always there when he's truly needed.

Steve doesn't understand him. He'd like to tell himself that this is the only reason why he can't stop thinking about him. But really, it's because Tony makes Steve angrier than anyone he's ever met.

It's not a rational kind of irritation either. Tony isn't a bully, he doesn't go out of his way to make Steve's day worse, he's not intentionally mean or hurtful. No, the problem with Tony is something much more mundane.

Because Tony is always, completely, utterly and irreverently... distracted.

He flutters from person to person like a sheet of paper in the wind, never in one place for too long, never present, never there. His attention is always spread across the entire room, butting into every conversation, juggling a dozen thoughts at once. Steve has never talked to him without seeing the wheels spinning behind his eyes, never seen Tony be still.

It's not just Steve. He's seen Tony talk to supervillains, presidents, gods and monsters alike with the same amount of irreverence. At first he thought that Tony can't possibly he paying attention when he's always so distracted, but Tony never misses a beat when formulating a cutting response, dancing circles around everyone else in any given conversation. And he doesn't seem to be using even a quarter of his attention to do so.

It feels like an itch under Steve's skin every time he watches Tony's focus drift when they're supposed to be talking. Steve isn't sure if it's because he's become used to people hanging on to his every word – as conceited as that makes him – or if it's something about Tony in particular. All he knows is that it bothers him more than it reasonably should.

He never actually talks to Tony about it. For one, because Tony's performance on the team or as a spokesperson for the Ultimates has never suffered from it, but also because something about it feels vaguely embarrassing. Like Steve would be begging for scraps if he asked for more of Tony's attention than he's ready to give. Steve doesn't even know why it bothers him so much.

But as with all things that Steve has tried to suppress and ignore in his life – it all ends up blowing up in his face eventually.

 

The day starts out more or less innocuous. Steve has a meeting with SHIELD in the morning, another one with Monica Chang right before lunch, and a free slot to get a head-start on some paperwork in the afternoon.

His last appointment of the day is with Nick and Tony. And that's where the entire problem starts.

Tony is thirteen minutes late. In Nick Fury's time, every minute is worth its weight in gold, so Steve is not taking this transgression lightly. However, when Tony finally deigns to show up, Steve doesn't even get the chance to say his piece before Tony holds up both hands with a sardonic smile.

“I know, I know, shame on me, jail for a thousand years, yadda yadda. Had some urgent business elsewhere. Let's get right to it, shall we?”

The meeting continues on a similarly hostile foot. Nick is trying to get Tony to acquiesce to his plans for an important SHIELD project that requires his expertise. Steve is mostly here in a supervisory role as the Captain of the Ultimates, so he doesn't say much on the matter.

Tony on the hand? Seems to have a lot to say.

“I'm not going to sign away this much of my time and resources to build you a bigger gun,” he says, which is a gross exaggeration, based on Steve's limited understanding of the issue. What's worse is that he doesn't even say it to Nick but is instead talking down at his phone, where he's typing up a message to somebody else. Nick is gnashing his teeth and has been for the past ten minutes, a constant creaking noise that it grating on Steve's nerves.

“It's not a gun, Stark. I'm telling you –“

“And I'm telling you that it won't do.” Tony glances up to give Nick a tiny smile that is so full of shit that it practically reeks. “If that's all you've got for me, Director, I think we can cut this meeting short.”

For a second, Steve is certain that Nick is about to blow up at Tony, possibly toss him out of the Helicarrier by the ears. Instead he picks up his tablet, walks around the table and gives Steve a sharp look before he leaves.

“This is your responsibility too, Captain. Make sure he understands that some things are more important than his ego.” And with that Nick is gone, not giving Steve a chance to reply. Tony whistles under his breath.

“Well, that was fun.” He stretches with his arms over his head before he starts to stand up. “If you don't mind, I'll just –“

“Sit your ass back down,” Steve says coolly, halting Tony in his tracks. “We're not done here.”

Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh goody. Is this a good cop, bad cop think you're trying to do? Because I can assure you, it's not very effective in certain –“

“I said. Sit down.”

Tony sighs but does as he's told, albeit as slowly and provocatively as possible. Steve's jaw clenches, but he tries to breathe through his anger. Yelling at Tony isn't going to fix anything.

He needs to play his cards right here.

“What's the real reason you're not going to help Nick with his project?” Steve asks, and Tony rolls his eyes, pulling out his phone again.

“Like I said, I'm not accepting any additional obligations at this time, and I –“

“Put. The phone. Away,” Steve growls, and now Tony just looks pissed, glaring at Steve from under his lashes. Even now, there's that hint of absence in his eyes, like he's not fully present, despite the fact that Steve is moments away from grabbing and shaking him.

It's absolutely infuriating.

“Last I checked, you're not my mother,” Tony says in a tone so sickeningly sweet that it makes Steve's stomach roil. “And for your information, I'm perfectly capable of listening to you while I'm putting out a different fire elsewhere, okay? So don't get your panties in a twist.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest, grabbing at his own elbows so hard that the leather of his uniform creaks. “This is important.”

“So are the ninety-nine other things on my to do list, Cap. No offense, but Nicky's little pet project isn't really my biggest concern at the moment.”

“That pet project could potentially save lives.”

“Or it could be used to kill,” Tony snaps, and ah, there it is. The real reason. “I'm not contracted by SHIELD at the moment. I have no fucking obligation to accept this project, and whether or not I devote my time and resources to it is myimperative, not yours.”

“So tell Nick that. If he knew that you have a moral stance against his methods, he'd stop asking,” Steve says, and Tony gives him a disgusted look.

“Yeah, right. As if I'm going to give him any more ammunition against me.” Tony's phone dings, drawing his attention back down, his fingers moving rapidly over the screen. “As lovely as this is, I'm not actually obligated to take your advice on this either. So with all due respect – go fuck yourself.”

He's not even looking at Steve when he says it. Steve's blood boils. “Stark –“

“Sorry, darling. Got places to be, people to see.” This time when Tony stands, Steve rises with him, walking around the table to step right into Tony's path out of the room. Tony gives an annoyed huff, looking past Steve at the door. “You mind?”

“We're not done,” Steve growls, and Tony shoots him a quick, annoyed glance before his attention drifts again. All at once, Steve can't bear it anymore. “Look at me.”

“If you've got more to say, you can book a meeting through my secretary. How about the next Tuesday after never –“

Steve grabs Tony's wrists so tightly that he can feel the bones creak under his hands, forcing them against the wall as he slams Tony up against it.

“Look at me,” he demands again, and Tony does, but his eyes are flitting about, still thinking, thinking, thinking – “I said look at me.”

His voice echoes through the room like the crack of a whip, and Tony – Tony looks. For the first time ever, his entire attention is on Steve. And Steve realizes all at once that he has no idea what to do now that he has it.

Tony is staring at him, something cool and calculating in his eyes. He's not resisting – doesn't even try to pull his wrists out of Steve's grip. He just stands there and looks, his chest brushing against Steve's with every breath, his pulse hammering under Steve's thumbs, and Steve –

Steve is getting hard.

The realization hits him like cold water down his back. Steve jerks away, letting go of Tony's wrists and holding up his hands as he backs off – or tries to, because Tony follows him, getting right in Steve's face and holding him captive with the weight of his gaze.

“I'm looking,” Tony says, his eyes dark, voice rough, and Steve is struck by the realization that he miscalculated. He didn't mean – he doesn't want – “What are you going to do about it?”

Steve can't breathe. His chest is heaving as he struggles for air, but Tony is taking up all the oxygen in the room, his eyes sucking Steve in like black holes, expectant and alight with challenge, and –

Steve runs away. Or he tries to, except Tony grabs him by the wrist and holds him back. Steve freezes like a rabbit facing down the open maw of a wolf. As if he knows what Steve is thinking, Tony smirks, showing his teeth.

“Not so fast, Captain,” he says calmly, almost lazily, brimming with self-assurance like he already knows everything that's about to happen next. In contrast, Steve feels like a bumbling idiot, sweating and stammering out an apology as if that's going to fix anything.

“I'm sorry, Tony, I – I don't know why I did that.”

“No?” Tony seems to be enjoying that single syllable, rolling it across his tongue in such a filthy way that Steve can't help but shiver. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Steve snaps, trying to tug his wrist out of Tony's grip, but Tony holds on tight. Of course there is no way that Tony could actually hold him if Steve tried to get away, but that would mean hurting Tony, and he doesn't want to do that. “I'm sorry,” he repeats. “I won't do it again. Would you please let me go now?”

“You're the one who wanted my attention, darling,” Tony practically purrs, sending another shiver down Steve's spine. “Well, you have it now.”

“I don't want anything from you,” Steve lies, and Tony can clearly see it, because he smirks.

“I'm sure you don't.” He's coming closer now, and those fucking wheels are turning behind his eyes again, all-knowing and strangely calm, and Steve hates it. If Tony is going to be like this, then at least he should – he should –

Should what?

“I know exactly what you want from me,” Tony says quietly, and Steve wishes that Tony would just get it over with and tell him so he can stop feeling like this – “You don't have to be ashamed, darling. Depravity is the spice of life.”

Steve's blood runs cold. No, that's not – he doesn't –

Tony tuts at whatever he sees on Steve's face. “Don't look so surprised. You're not the first person to fantasize about getting me on my knees. Giving it up for you.”

The words drip down Steve's spine like liquid fire, a desire expressed that he didn't even know he had. But it's not quite right.

“You held me down so hard just a second ago.” Tony twists his wrist, pulling his jacket back just enough to reveal the edge of a purpling bruise. Steve's mouth runs dry. He wishes he could say that it's regret or even disgust he's feeling right now, but it's not. It's not. “That's it, isn't it? You want to keep me still. You want me to look at you and only you. Am I getting warmer?”

He sees in Tony's smirk that the answer is already obvious to him. “So what do you want?” Steve asks hoarsely, and Tony's smirk widens.

“Nothing much, really.” His fingers play with the upmost button of his shirt, and Steve's eyes are helplessly drawn to the motion like a moth to a flame before he manages to meet Tony's sultry gaze again. “I want you to stop fighting yourself. I want you to get everything you want.” Tony tugs his tie off with one quick rip of fabric, looping it around Steve's neck instead and pulling him in close enough so his final words land directly on Steve's lips. “I want you to take me.”

Afterwards, Steve can't for the life of him remember who moved first. One moment Tony is reeling him in with his tie and the next Steve has Tony pressed up against the wall, wrists above his head and his hips grinding down against Tony's thigh. Tony is gasping, shivering when Steve rocks up into the hard length of his cock, and Steve feels insane, dizzy with arousal and already desperate for more.

He's moving completely on autopilot when he turns Tony around, flattening him against the wall with his body so that Tony is completely covered by him. Steve will never admit to just how much time he's spent staring at Tony's ass, but memories of it flash in front of his mind's eye now that he's feeling it pressed up against his cock like this, at once more soft and more firm than he expected. A perfect contradiction.

Typical for Tony, really.

Steve is breathing hard, and Tony doesn't seem to be faring much better as he turns his head, not quite far enough to look at Steve, but enough to make his voice heard loud and clear when he says, “If you're going to fuck me, I've got condoms and lube in my pocket.”

Of course he does. Steve decides not to ask questions, simply reaches down into Tony's pocket to retrieve the set of square foil packets, ripping the lube open with his teeth as he shoves Tony's pants down with his free hand.

When Tony squirms against the wall, trying to get comfortable maybe, Steve slams into him on pure instinct to hold him down, unable to bear the thought of Tony moving away right now.

“Stay,” he says hoarsely, and Tony hums.

“Not going anywhere, gorgeous. Just trying to give you more leverage.”

Steve looks down, and sure enough Tony has kicked off his pants and spread his legs a little wider so Steve can reach him better. Steve can't tear his eyes away from the tantalizing curve of Tony's ass as he coats the fingers of his right hand with the lube, fumbling his cock out of his pants with the other and putting on a condom. It's laughably easy to slide two fingers inside Tony's hole, which makes Steve wonder how often Tony does this. How often he's let men use him like this.

“Not getting any younger, darling,” Tony says, pushing back onto Steve's fingers when Steve is still trying to feel him out. “Give it to me. I can take it.”

Steve doesn't question Tony's decision, just takes out his fingers and replaces them with his cock. The slide in is already enough to make his head loll on his shoulders, heat and pressure relieving some of that desperate need still churning in his gut. When he rocks his hips, it's Tony's gasping moan that seals the deal, the sound ringing through Steve like the clang of a bell, waking up a long-buried desire to own and take and claim.

He sets a brutal pace right from the start, and it still only barely scratches the surface of his need as he ruts against Tony's ass, holding him still with both hands on Tony's wrists. He pulls out just enough to thrust back in, too focused on pinning Tony to the wall with his body weight to afford himself a bigger range of motion. For his part, Tony gives himself up beautifully, his body almost completely limp under Steve's, except when he twitches or jerks at a particularly good thrust. It's maddening how good it is, knowing that Steve has Tony, right here in this moment with him, nowhere else, not sharing a single piece of him.

That train of thought should probably make him wonder about his hidden motivation here. But right now, all Steve can feel is relief.

“Fuck, Steve,” Tony groans, and Steve leans in close to press his forehead against the back of Tony's, breathing him in as he snaps his hips with abandon, chasing their mutual release. It's not going to take him very long to get there, he can already feel it, so Steve gathers both of Tony's wrists in one hand and brings the other down between Tony's body and the wall, wrapping it tightly around Tony's cock.

He grits his teeth at the strangled shout Tony makes, holding him down when Tony tries to buck forward into his fist and shushing him under his breath.

“I've got you. I've got you,” he rasps, and Tony whines, tossing his head to the side until Steve can see most of his side profile, his stomach swooping at the desperate look in Tony's eyes.

“Come on, I'm so fucking close, you've got to –“ Tony chokes on air when Steve squeezes his cock a little harder, angling his hips just a bit more with every thrust until Tony starts squirming against the wall, trying to arch his back so Steve can slide even deeper inside. “There, there, right there, ah, fuck –“

Steve himself is so close that he can taste it, chewing on his bottom lip to try and stifle any incriminating noises. Tony has no such compunctions, moaning out his pleasure as loudly as he pleases. It's a good thing these rooms are soundproof, because Tony is really making a racket.

Steve already knows that he's going to think of Tony moaning right in his ear every time he jerks off for the foreseeable future.

“Oh god, oh – Steve –“ the sound of his name in that shattered voice is almost enough to do him in, but Tony still beats him to it, tensing up in Steve's arms as he shakes through his orgasm, juddering helplessly in the liminal space that Steve has trapped him in. It only takes a few more thrusts into Tony's shivering body before Steve tips over the edge, pressing a groan into Tony's neck as he empties himself with a slow rock of his hips against Tony's ass.

In the aftermath, Steve is struck almost instantly by a gut-wrenching regret over what he's just done. Tony is his subordinate, not to mention his friend in a lot of ways, and this is going to throw a massive wrench into –

“Well, that was lovely, darling.”

Despite his inner turmoil, Steve still has the wherewithal to pull out slowly, plucking the condom off his dick, tying it off, wrapping it in a tissue and stuffing it in his pocket to deal with later. If anyone found a used condom in the trash can here, Steve would never hear the end of it.

By the time he's done wiping the mess off his cock and tucking it away in his pants, Tony has turned around and is leaning heavily against the wall, his eyes half-lidded as he looks at Steve. Christ, but Tony looks a mess, bright red indentations all over one side of his face from where the plaster had pressed into his skin, his hair sticking up every which way and his clothes rumpled all over. Steve is just glad that Tony has already pulled up his pants, because he doesn't know if he would have survived the sight of Tony's cock wet and spent after Steve fucked him to orgasm.

He's definitely going to need some time to digest the fact that he actually did that.

“Gotta say,” Tony starts, and Steve already knows he's not going to like whatever comes out of his mouth next – “If you ever feel like doing that again, my door is wide open. Just call me in advance so I can clear my schedule, because wow, I am not looking forward to sitting down after this.”

Steve is sure his face is bright red when he says, “I'll keep that in mind,” unsure if he means it or not. Tony's eyes glint with amusement as he smiles and cocks his head to the side. Steve's breathing hitches a little in his chest at the weight of Tony's full attention on him, no distractions, no caveats.

“See that you do. I'm looking forward to it.”

Steve nods, hanging back while Tony fixes his appearance, systematically tugging his clothes back into place and finger-combing his hair into its usual shape. It's actually very impressive how quickly he manages to groom himself back into a slightly more debauched approximation of his regular appearance. If Steve didn't know that Tony just got fucked within an inch of his life, he's not sure if he would suspect a thing.

“After you, darling,” Tony says, and Steve obligingly walks over to open the door, then steps aside to let Tony through first.

“After you,” he says, and Tony's eyes sparkle with laughter that doesn't ever make it past his lips. But Steve can clearly see it, right there in the depths of Tony's eyes, until Tony turns away, breaking the moment.

Steve finds that he would like to see it again.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 27 of Kinktober 2024