porerurio

It’s the first skin to skin touch Tony’s given him in the past half an hour, after he’d played with the plug nestled in Stephen’s ass, taking care to not let his hands brush any part of Stephen’s lower half; for a moment, Stephen wonders if this is the only capacity where Tony would allow himself to be any measure of cruel, because it is torture, having Tony so close but nowhere near pressed against Stephen.

Whose wrists are bound with the Cloak, the edge of its hem brushing the wet tracks on his cheeks as it keeps Stephen from hurting himself. He has a tendency to clutch at anything within his reach when he’s out of his mind with pleasure, and after the second time he’d let out a hiss at the sudden pain, Tony had conscripted the Cloak’s help.

“You wouldn’t deprive them of any part of you, would you?” Tony had asked with a smile that promised ruin.

(Stephen had told him in the dark of night about the moments when he’d been… Weak, when electricity and magic thrummed within him but release was just out of reach. How the Cloak had held him down across his waist as Stephen’s hips tried to buck into air, shaking hands barely able to hold the toy he’d fucked into — and how he’d almost always cum with fabric stuffed in his mouth, muffling his noises from echoing around the large bedroom.)

In the present, Stephen’s low groan escapes his throat as Tony digs the pads of his fingers into muscled fat, inches away from where Stephen’s cock is half-hard and drooling. His back arches, and he pushes into Tony’s touch eagerly, gritting his teeth and failing to stop the desperate noise leaving him when Tony rubs over the stretched pucker of his rim, sticky and shiny with lube.

“Don’t think I’d ever get tired of seeing you like this,” Tony murmurs, tapping the end of the plug, sending tiny shocks throughout Stephen’s body. “Most powerful sorcerer of this damn reality and you’re here acting like you’d die if you didn’t have a cock filling you up.”

Somehow, Stephen manages to croak out, “Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” and he’s paid for his insolence with a delighted laugh from Tony, and the plug being mercilessly pulled halfway out of him, the largest part of its width scraping against the sensitive edges of his hole.

The Cloak somehow keeps his knees apart despite Stephen’s body trying its best to curl up and pull away from the sudden, overwhelming sensation, and he’s helpless between the two of them, trembling as Tony keeps the plug there.

Keeps him stuffed but gaping open, and he lovehates the way he feels like a—