Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I can break the sound barrier,” Tony said, voice on the brink of a whine, and Steve quietly thought I wish you would do it right now, the gentle smile still on his face.

“And I did it before any of the rest of them,” he went on, definitely in a whine.

“I know.”

“No you don’t. Fuck off. You were still all Aladdin on Ice when I tore the scientific community from its pillars.”

“Tony.”

“From its pillars, Steve.”

“Tony. I’m telling you this because I love you,” Steve said. “Shut up.”

“I mean, what did they invent? Nothing.” He continued. “What do they have apart from holding hands and rainbows and friendship and bunnies and shit? And they get to go into space? And save the galaxy? The galaxy! We’re in that, Steve! You know how many people I saved this week? Eight. I may as well retire now…”

Steve heard him running his fingers through his hair. “You know,” he said casually, into his pillow, “Bitching about saving eight people might make you kind of an ass.”

“Please. I’m a total ass. My ratio is nowhere near up to scratch.”

Steve groaned, giving up on sleep entirely. He rolled over, making a show of reaching for the dimmer switch by Tony’s head, then settling down on top of him and melting right into place with a slow kiss. “Stop talking,” he begged into Tony’s lips. 

Tony froze for a moment, eyes low and flickering at Steve’s face; but then he blinked. “And another thing…”

Steve groaned again, stilling his lips with a kiss.

Tony let him, hands digging into Steve’s hips like the very first time. “Mm. Are you doing this just to shut me up?”

“Oh, I’d do pretty much anything to shut you up,” Steve said cheerily. 

“Asshole,” Tony muttered.

“Mmm,” Steve agreed, licking at his neck like it was covered in honey. “Makes me wonder why you stay with me. After all, compared to you, my intellect is negligible; my looks a barren plain next to the rugged lushness of your…masculine…facial…hair…” he nibbled at Tony’s jawline. “You’re not just the greatest inventor the world has ever seen - you are your machines. You’re mind-blowing. You’re the smartest guy in any room. Best-looking, too,” he threw in as an aside.

“Well, that guy - that Quill guy…”

“…Is great, I’m sure,” Steve stepped in. “But, yeah, I don’t want to fuck him. I don’t want to fuck anyone the way I fuck you. I love the sounds you make and I love your face.”

Tony's firm body shifted underneath him. Steve could feel the tension knit and weave its way between them; the heat of his body, his need to fill it, to have Tony thrilling and crying out, tensing and sweating and breathing his name. It was thick in his mouth within a heartbeat.

He both felt and heard Tony’s swallow. “God. I love the way you still sound so bashful when you say that.”

“When I say what? When I talk about fucking you?” he whispered into Tony’s skin, head down a little. Okay, so maybe it was still hard to say it. “How else could I put it…filling you up with my cock?”

There was a hint of a groan beneath him, and then Tony’s hands were in his hair, gently yet firmly pulling him into a kiss.

Steve knew they were both in too deep then, and relished it. They could take it fast and they could take it slow, so slow and burning, a bomb with a mile-long wick, before they started chasing the white-hot heat of the whiteout. He loved it both ways, but he loved denying himself the satisfaction even more. His body was so heightened; if he were a man with a lesser will, he’d have had Tony’s hips pinned long before now, legs hitched up around his waist, fucking right into him where he was still loose from earlier.

But he fully intended to drive Tony mad tonight.

Call it punishment.

Maybe he derived some sort of sick pleasure from not doing what his body told him to. Right now, his cock was pounding to suck Tony’s dick. It made his words, his tone, his movement, his breathing, his gaze, everything, so slow and soupy. He wasn’t sure he and Tony hadn’t already melted into one, and holding back was such divine torture.

“Arms up, Stark,” he muttered.

“Mm,” Tony said against his tongue. Steve loved the way their mouths sounded when they formed a seal together in a deep kiss; the way they had to breathe out harshly through their noses. “I don’t have to follow your orders, Rogers.”

It was hard to get any part of himself more than an inch away from Tony’s skin. He flicked his tongue across Tony’s nipple, and it stiffened instantly. “Lie back and let me suck you,” he commanded him.

Tony groaned. “You’re an asshole.”

Steve slipped further down his body and shot him a quick, shy grin. “Yeah, I know.”

Then his eyes were drawn down to Tony’s half-hard cock. He opened his mouth around his head, sealing it in and kissing it with his tongue.

“God,” Tony breathed. “You’re killing me with those eyes.”

Steve flashed them up at him, raising his eyebrow expectantly. He gave him one slow, teasing lick, and the ring of his thumb and forefinger rocked gently, encouragingly, up and down at the base of Tony’s cock.

“Honey,” Tony drawled, “I just came…”

 “Mm,” Steve said, running his hand once up and down as he kissed at his stiffening cock. “Could have fooled me.” He moved back up to kiss Tony’s stomach.

“God,” Tony said again, and something about this had him nearly at full-mast already. “Talk to me.”

“It gets you so hot,” Steve nibbled into him, “Doesn’t it - Captain America scratching you and biting you and spanking you. And fucking you. You didn’t know what that word meant until you met me. Now you nearly pass out every time you cum.”

Tony managed to get his hand slipped down around his cock, jerking with singular, mindless purpose. “God, yes. Steve. Don’t stop talking. Ever. You have free reign to not ever stop talking.” 

“Are you getting off on this?” Steve teased, wrapping his hand under Tony’s around his cock, brushing with his thumb; and then, in mock surprise, “Oh, you are. Feel how wet you’re getting.” He wasn’t even exaggerating for the play. His thumb had upset a small oasis of sweet, smooth liquid.

Tony moaned. “Just talk,” he pleaded.

“About how much I want you? Because you’re so spectacular, generous, giving, and deny it so bitterly if anyone dares to mention it?” Steve breathed, open-mouthed, drawing in the scent of his body as it spilled from his hot skin. “You’re savvy and smart and cocky and charismatic and so, so, sexy, Tony. I could never walk through a room with you in it without staring.” He held Tony’s wrists into place, with the softest twist of pain as a warning to behave, taking over control of his cock with his tongue.

“Yes,” Tony breathed, and either he wasn’t aware he ever sounded that way, or he’d have pretended to forget it before tomorrow.

Steve’s cock was uncomfortably hard. That was only too easy. He was spoiled for choice, between watching his work or looking up as Tony sank into that rare state of acquiescence; pliant, manipulable, ready to listen to Steve without a single smartass remark - until he stopped touching him, at least. It got to him so hard, how much Tony wanted him.

He decided on looking down, because Tony bit out a soft laugh and his eyes rolled closed and his hips started to shift like he had an itch. Steve just opened his mouth wide and matched his movements, watching each time he pulled off slick and shiny over the flushed, flooded pink of his skin, obscenely conspicuous against his lightly tanned stomach. He heard Tony hiss in pleasure, settling into it all as if he belonged inside Steve’s mouth.

“You like my tongue all over your cock, Tony?” he asked softly, enunciating obscenely, more for himself than anything else.

“Oh,” Tony sighed, “You have no idea. I still get hard in the middle of the day thinking about how filthy your pretty mouth is, Captain.”

“Please. I’m off duty.”

“Good thing too,” Tony said earnestly. “Fury’d have an aneurysm if he knew the things you do to me.”

A spike of need drove him right up to Tony’s ear, voice so low that someone lying right next to them couldn’t hear it. “Likewise, if he knew the way you take it like a horny little slut. Opening your legs for me twenty-four seven. If he knew your dirty little fantasies about having Captain America fuck you.”

He could hear Tony’s mouth go dry. “Jesus.”

“You need my cock right now, don’t you, Tony? You only just came from it, and you want it. You’re insatiable.” Fuck. He was making himself bite his own lip. “Mm, it’s okay - relax. God, you’re desperate. I love the way you can’t lie still when you’re needy.”

“Steve,” he said loosely. This was going quicker than he’d anticipated.

His fingertips skated up Tony’s chest. “Can you feel how hard I am right now? How hard you make me? You’re the only one who can make my cock this hard, Tony. Ever since you first walked in the room.”

“I should have figured out you were gay for me sooner,” Tony murmured. 

Steve snorted lightly. “You can talk,” he retorted. “You love my cock. You love looking at it. You love touching it. You love sucking it. You love riding it. You get hard over it. You’ve jizzed your bed over it.”

“Yes, well,” Tony said, voice an odd mixture of argumentative and insanely aroused. “That’s not because I’m gay.”

“Makes it even better.” Steve grinned wickedly. “You looked distraught the first time you kissed me. And you were so shocked the first time you came on my hand. Surprised yourself, didn’t you, cumming so hard, the way it got under your skin like you never expected…”

“Yep. There was no going back after you,” Tony breathed, focusing on his words to avoid the sting of his arousal. Steve knew. He could feel the slickness shooting out to ease it. “I just kept thinking about you. All of - everything about you. Couldn’t escape it.”

“You tried your best to,” Steve said cheekily, biting at his hip as he slid back down the bed.

“You do start to feel guilty,” Tony threw back, “Thinking about someone else…”

“When you’re coming? Yeah, I’ll bet. Bet you still feel bad about this, too. Bet you hope no one finds out what you like done to you. I bet you like the guilt. You like misbehaving. You like it. You like everyone thinking you’re a womanizer, then crawling into my bed so I can fuck you on all fours. You like that they’d never even dream of it. You like the thought of being punished.”

“As unhealthy as the vast majority of things I like,” Tony said in one breath.

“Debatably. I think it’s pretty healthy when I do this…” he hitched Tony’s leg up and gave him a sharp spank to the top of his thigh; Tony’s moan seemed to come straight from his balls. “And you do this…”

He lowered his mouth to catch the thick drop of precum as it rolled onto his tongue. 

Then he gave up on holding back, letting his body finally relax into the motions it was craving.

And they really should play that sound to anyone who was a slow starter; Tony’s virginal gasps at the start of a blow job.

Better yet, the groans. Thick and rich, cello and bass, shaking through his body, and the way he molested Steve’s name with his tongue...

It killed Steve to pull away, and he still had to nuzzle hard up and down his length with parted lips, breathing in the heavy scent of him, the full taste of fiery tumescence and pheromones. “Want to taste your cum.”

“You’ve tasted my cum,” Tony said breathlessly, unknotting his fingers from the sheets. Still argumentative. He’d have to do something about that.

“Well,” Steve said, and it flared inside of him, that little competitive streak that Tony drew out of him, “I want to taste it when you’re wrecked and crying and you can’t keep your back on the bed. I want to taste it when I’ve had you at the edge, and kept you there until you’re breaking.”

Tony swallowed. Aside from being naked, softly glowing with sweat, and prominently erect, he looked almost composed enough to step out of the room. “I don’t break.” Stubborn jerk.

“Breaking,” Steve repeated in a singsong voice. And that was enough pussyfooting around; he’d been with Tony long enough now to know how to get him off, hard and fast.

It wasn’t anything complex. Take him deep, firm, quick; ghost over his perineum with two fingers; he could almost do it mechanically, which was just as well. The taste of him, the sounds he made, the way he tried to lie still; it made Steve ache for him. 

Blasphemy had never sounded so sweet.

And when he heard his breath hitch, like he’d just reached the end of a bungee jump, Steve drew back and let the air flood cool onto his wet cock, and held him firmly at the base, and murmured absently, “You taste so good…”

Tony’s tip swelled wet on command, and pearly from the near miss. His voice was hoarse. “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from. If you feel like. You know.”

Steve rocked Tony's cock forwards until the bead streamed off; they watched it stretch until it was a clear, shining elastic thread between the purple indent of his head and the dark hair of his stomach.

Tony swallowed again, looking up at him with a pleading flicker behind his eyes, to which Steve belatedly replied, “I will.”

He hooked his hands under Tony’s thighs, rocking him further onto his back so that he could fuck against him with his mouth. 

“Sweet baby Jesus,” Tony stuttered in a monotone. “That’s good. That - that - oh -“

Steve swallowed a moan around him, cock twitching. There was no better sound than a slip of Tony’s control.

And now Tony was shaking, body flooded with heat, while Steve manipulated his hips, flexing them with his hands. “Oh God. Oh my God. Yes…”

Steve slowly lowered his hips back to the bed, and pulled off gently.

Tony tried to stifle his pained groan. “Dick,” he sighed. “Come on…” 

He reached down one hand, and Steve caught it, quick as a flash, pinning his wrist to the bed hard. “No, you don’t.” 

Tony breathed loud and clear, desperately trying to avoid whimpering through his nose. “Alright. Whatever. Do your worst.” 

Steve made him regret that.

His control was better this time: quiet, well-managed grunts; hard, steady breathing, like he was rowing. But before long one hard thrust from Steve broke through the armor - and once the moans started spilling out, his cock started leaking incessantly; and then Steve heard the soft plosives of the mouthed plea, “Gonna come, Steve, please, I…” 

It really hurt, this time, to pull away.

“Ah,” Tony sighed, like Steve had ripped a band-aid off him. This voice was his ‘trying not to beg’ voice, ‘trying not to use that word’ voice. “Steve…Steve…”

Steve cocked an eyebrow, though he wasn’t sure how clearly Tony could see him right now. “Do you remember your safeword?”

“Oh, fuck you.” The words shot out in a rush of air. “I’m not gonna break that easy, Dorito.”

Steve parted his lips slowly, the need to kiss at Tony cock fighting against the need to lick it. “Fine by me.”

"Steve..."

He had no idea how it could feel so good against his tongue; other than, perhaps, biology. That or oral fixation. But there was nothing else as smooth or firm or hot. Nothing else that tasted better than the first bite of food after a battle, every time he slid it past his lips. Steve was almost so focused on jerking him against his tongue, he didn't realize how close Tony was again.

"Steve. Steve. I need...oh, god..." His eyes were screwed tight, neck heaving, abs rolling and hips shuddering.

Steve squeezed himself through his underwear, a firm pinch at the base, but his own wet patch still grew. Tony's eyes opened onto the ceiling, shining in the low light.

Steve’s heart was going to pound right through his ribcage. “Has anyone ever seen you like this?” he breathed.

Tony was shaking his head. The hair around his face didn’t move - it clung damply to his forehead. “Just you. Only you. Who else could I trust not to tell? Come on.”

“Is that the only reason?” Steve teased, gliding his mouth torturously down Tony’s screamingly oversensitized head. 

Tony’s eyes were watering; one tear shot down his cheek as his moan trembled in the air.

“No,” Steve said, aloud, partly to contradict his own desperate, desperate cock. “I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

“Steve,” Tony groaned. He’d never sounded like that outside - not even when he was close to dying.

“In fact,” Steve went on, partially relenting to the throbbing, “I think I need to come first.” His cock sang its approval. “I think I really need to come first.”

Tony ground his hips into the bed, gasping for any contact, anywhere on his body. “Bastard.”

Steve just choked as he slipped his boxers down, sank his hand onto himself. “Ah, Tony…” he bit his lip. He couldn’t let his eyes fall closed; Tony was sneaky and clever at the best of times. He pressed on his chest with his free hand, holding him in place just enough to show him who was boss, and sang out his moan as he sped up.

Tony’s hands shot down. He really went for the whimper when Steve let himself go to pull them back up.

“Don’t make me do that again,” Steve warned him; fully expecting to do it again, cock twitching at the prospect.

Tony flicked his tongue over his lips, looking totally lost, eyes fluttering down to Steve’s cock sliding in his hand; he whined angrily and slid one hand back down the bed.

Steve slammed it against the headboard above him, grabbing his other wrist and pinning them there with one hand and complete ease. “I thought I told you not to do that. Do you understand me?”

He had to hold back from coming as soon as Tony said “Yes” in that hungry, lusty sigh, in that way he’d never admit to; in the way that told Steve that growling out commands sent Tony straight to cloud nine.

It was burning through him within the next few strokes, and he was choking back the moans. “Tony. Gonna…Tony…”

“Ah - yes -“

He gasped as it hit his face, his parted mouth, flicked one drop against his eyelashes. The sight only made Steve come harder, shivering and groaning and shaking his cock onto Tony’s neck, drawing white lines down him.

It was torture for both of them. Steve couldn’t collapse on top of him, couldn’t let go of his arms - he had to shake through the aftershocks right there, breathing in the fire and breathing out ash.

Tony was just about catatonic. He was totally limp beneath him. “Did I just come, or die?” he breathed.

“Neither,” Steve answered on an exhale, laughing softly, euphorically.

That got him going again. He twisted at his human restraints - then he yanked. “Come on. You’ve had your fun. Literally.”

“Mmm.” Steve squeezed his wrists tight and moved in close to lick himself off Tony’s neck. “You haven’t cried.”

Tony shivered, babbling wordlessly. Bad time to challenge him verbally. Licking his own cum off him was one of the few things on the planet that drove Tony beyond crazy; rendered him speechless. “I…I…”

Steve pulled back. “Yes?”

He shivered again. “I. Uh. I.” He cleared his throat, then tried for ‘annoyed’, but came off as ‘frustrated’. “I shed a tear - what more do you want, you sadist…?”

Something about it - maybe it was just that word - made Steve realize just what he wanted. It hadn’t been part of his battle plan, but he needed it. He needed to fuck Tony hard, see his face streaming with tears until he came all over his own neck.

Steve let out the harsh breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

He sucked his fingers into his mouth.

Tony’s eyes opened as he heard it, and as Steve reached down, he choked, “No…”

Steve slipped inside him, thumb hovering against his perineum, and he beckoned persuasively: Here. Come here. Now. “No?” he pressed up.

“Yes,” Tony sighed, eyes shooting back in his head. “No. Yes. Again.”

Steve circled like a shark, then pushed.

Tony seemed to swallow his groan up inside of him. The resulting sound was fantastic. “Steve…”

His eyes had filled up again. Steve watched them mist and stream, half-closed, and before he knew it, he’d rocked up the bed again, growling encouragements into his ear, watching Tony jerk as he fingered him.

So now he had him spread out underneath him, weak and shaking but still trying to fight back; all of the words shaken loose from him, and most of everything else, red and ready, needing him.

Steve reached out for the bottle, couldn’t hold back, tipped the lube right up, into Tony’s open ass. Even the bottle sighed as he squeezed it.

Tony jumped as it went running in, slick and cold; the sensation slight, but still overstimulation. 

“I wasn’t meaning to fuck you,” Steve confessed under his breath. “But I need it, Tony. So bad. Want to fill you up.” 

“Still hard,” Tony choked, half a question. 

“I told you I needed it,” Steve mumbled into his neck, sliding in the proof.

Tony’s back jerked into an arch. “Steve…”

“Steady…”

“Can’t…” 

Steve hummed breathlessly as he moved on top of him, sliding in, watching Tony’s mouth drop, his spine curve, the way his shoulders twitched like he was “hitting them from the inside with that giant cock,” as Tony liked to put it whenever he was begging Steve to fuck him.

He wasn’t tight enough right now to kill them by trying to take it slow.

At least they were both helpless at this stage, heavy-breathing against each over, Tony rocking his hips up to slide his cock against Steve’s chest, gasping in time to the slick sounds inside him. Steve didn’t need to worry about Tony’s hands now - they were carving their way into his back - which was just as well. He might have broken them, going by the way the bedsprings were wailing at him.

“Yes,” Tony breathed, “Fuck yes, Steve, fuck…”

Steve angled himself with a pathetic moan. He would just about kill for those sounds of shock Tony made when Steve caught him just right. The man was nothing short of dangerous. 

Of course, it wasn’t purely selfish. Tony was finally, finally, crying from want, and Steve ceased to be Steve.

All he could ask for was to be conscious enough to watch Tony cum.

This was it, now. The white-hot chase. The part of him nobody else ever got to see. The low, guttural grunts that Steve forced up his body and out of his throat, and the loose, weak, high cries, and the times where they tangled together before they reached the air, and if Tony managed to hold them back his exhalation was always tainted with curses or with Steve’s name or both. When Tony was crying from exhaustion, wrecked, cock ready to explode, tears rolling out of his eyes just like the precum, just like the stray spit running across his cheek, losing control of everything within himself.  Steve could hear his own lungs - the sounds of trying to keep his eyes open, trying to listen and taste and touch as much as he could before his own body rendered him deaf, dumb and mute, shutting down from overload before it all fired in one last burst, every sense all at once, like the sudden shock of a fading dream, glittering weaker each time it gets glimpsed.

He thought they screamed before they were done. He could feel his cum hitting Tony on the inside, as far as it would go; feel it wash back against his cock, bathing him in slick, hot, dirty, sticky thickness, sealing him to Tony’s body, while the last of his consciousness escaped through his mouth and Tony’s cum splashed up at him, clutching at him like a desperate, scrabbling hand. Tony was saying his name, over and over, in soft gusts of air, and his orgasm - it felt like they were out of place in reality, twisted like Steve’s old spine, and just one sharp click that hurt so good had forced them back into alignment.

 Steve breathed in Tony’s chest like he’d just stepped out of a burning building.

He moaned deep into his skin, not wanting to surface, not wanting to slip out.

When he looked up, Tony’s face was still contorted in ecstasy.

When he slipped out, Tony’s face was still contorted in ecstasy.

And after a moment, Tony exhaled with pleasure and pain.

He struggled to breathe far longer than Steve did, but when he finally caught up with himself, he made up for it. “So.” He swallowed. “Is.” Still panting.

"Yeah?" Steve breathed, winding his fingers into Tony's.

Tony squeezed back. “Is he prettier than me?”

Steve stared at him for a minute before he got it.

He groaned, collapsing onto his side of the bed. “Sonofa…” he muttered into the mattress. He turned his head just enough to face Tony, speech slurred. “I should give you a good spanking for that, you know...” Right after falling asleep for another seventy years. Goddamn.

“Hmm," Tony agreed, a good third of his sass returning. "Looks like I kinda took it out of you tonight, though, hun,” he managed, with one light, condescending pat to the shoulder.

Steve growled into the pillow, shaking his head in a mixture of irritation, pleasure, relief and disbelief.

He consoled himself with the fact that it was vital for both their sanity and their physical well-being that he didn’t mind letting Tony win.

*

It was well past four AM once they’d finished that second round. Steve wasn’t exactly feeling it, but he wasn’t as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he should have been at seven and while being briefed.

Mostly, he felt bad about how bleary-eyed Tony looked. And ragged with stubble in the gaps on his goatee. Plus, one of his shirt buttons was in the wrong hole.

Focus, Rogers.

His eyes flicked back to Fury, but he didn’t take much in; other than that it was all a “Grave matter,” which for Fury meant something was seriously FUBAR. He shook his head and blinked hard, hoping nobody connected Tony’s yawning to his own apparent ability to keep his eyes in check. 

Come to actually focus on it, it sounded like Fury was trying to tactfully break it to Tony that…that...

Steve narrowed his eyes at Nick.

“…Regrettably, have not emerged in the expected condition - through no fault of our own, I will add…”

Yep. People were definitely staring at Tony, now. This could only end well.

If he’d been less tired, Steve would be tempted to cut through the crap and say “Sir, are you trying to tell us you’ve gotten all of Tony’s weapons blown up? You know, the ones he spent months fine-tuning?”

Oh god. They were all playing with fire, now. Tony'd swivelled away in his chair, so Steve couldn’t see his face; nor could the others, but their eyes were all on him, and his back was wire-straight.

“…Not to say that this is a matter of urgency.” Fury paused. “Not today, at least…”

As the minutes stretched on and Fury waded through the legalese for “We fucked up, Titanic-scale”, even Natasha began to fidget. 

“…As of yet,” Fury added, with yet another glance in Tony’s direction. “No replacement material has been located for this element.”

There was total silence in the room.

Steve held his breath. He didn’t want to imagine the look on Tony’s face.

Eventually, Fury cleared his throat, with surprising difficulty. “…So? Any thoughts on this, Stark?” 

Everyone swivelled ever so slightly. They were still managing to face away from him with their bodies, mid-flinch, chairs bent fully in the opposite direction to their knees and creaking with morbid curiosity, with only their eyes on him.

Tony turned slightly back to the centre of the room - enough for Steve to see his blank gaze.

He gave a sudden, hazy blink. “Fuck,” he said, totally tonelessly. “I don’t even give a fuck anymore.” 

Steve stared at him, but he didn’t pay attention; he just kept on ploughing right on, right over the waterfall.

“Long story short, just so you all know: I’m fucking Steve. Have been for months. And last night was the best fucking night of my life. So, yeah, no. I don’t give a fuck. And you’re welcome for the visual.”

Steve stared straight into the air in front of his eyes, blinking rapidly, face turning red and pants growing tight in spite of himself.

“So if you were wondering why I was limping,” Tony went on - don’t go on, oh god, don’t - “It’s because he had his cock inside me. Twice. And it’s fucking huge. And I don’t give a shit anymore. It feels so good. I honestly encourage you all to try it. I’ve never come so hard in my life. Fuck. Fuck me. I’m fucking Captain America. And I’m really fucking gay for Captain America,” he finished, triumphantly, “And his cock.”

He looked like he was about to pass out, chin collapsing onto his hands with enduring post-coital bliss.

That was about all Steve took in. His face was melting off his skull.

Next thing he was aware of, Tony was swanning out of the room, the door was swinging behind him, and everyone was standing up. Steve joined them.

They might have been murmuring among themselves, or it might have just been the ringing in his ears.

That was when Natasha broke through his numb shock by grasping his wrist.

“Thank you so much,” she whispered.

Bruce cut in to shake his hand. “No, really - thank you,” he agreed.

“Nobody else could take one for the team like that. Good on you. Wait - you've washed your hands since, right?”

“Uh,” Steve said, frowning. “Yes. Thanks, Clint.”

“I’ll see to it you’re heavily decorated for this,” Fury said, with a pat to his shoulder.

Time was far too slow and swimmy for him to take much else in.

Next Steve knew, he was the last one in the room; and clearly in a daze, despite being the only one who hadn’t just had their world view overturned in blindingly vivid detail.

He sat straight back down again. 

So, he mused, still mostly numbly, as he tried to work the sensitive areas through in his mind.

Sex with Tony Stark, and a medal for his efforts?

Well. That was it.

He officially loved this century.