Steve Rogers x Tony Stark (Stony)

Mornings were always a little rough, sometimes longer than they need to be, sometimes too short, too fast, and this morning was a little bit of both; Steve’s head was pounding when he woke, the faint jingle of his alarm like a baby’s rattle, cute but acutely annoying (pun intended), and he blames the three glasses of wine and not the chocolate muffin his husband bought for him, how he knows he can’t handle sweets. He didn’t get to groan, for his husband stole the noise, a resounding, almost cat-like whine and an obnoxious stretch, curving himself into the letter C before shriveling up, shuddering under the thick duvet. Steve didn’t even have to look to know he was frowning, a tight scowl.

“You need to change your alarm,” Tony croaks, voice cracking like a dry leaf.

Steve grunts, hurls himself upright and swings his legs off the bed, casting the duvet aside and stamping his eyes shut - yep, too much wine. His vision was swimming.

“And you need to stop manipulating me to drink,” Steve spat - well, grumbled rather bluntly.

The younger heard a scoff, felt the bedsheets rustle, and mouthed the words that came from Tony’s lips. 

“You left your tolerance in the 40s, Rogers, that’s not my fault.”

Steve rolled his eyes behind his eyelids and shook his head, preparing himself with a sharp inhale and tight shoulders for the worst of his morning: standing up. He normally kept his eyes closed, stumbling through their bedroom until his knee crashed into the bathroom door or his wrist thwacked the lamp so hard it rattled, and while he kept his eyes sealed, he miraculously didn’t run into anything - oh, wait, scratch that, his toe jammed under the bathroom door. 

Tony cracked a smile as Steve cursed, for he always found it amusing when the older stooped low enough to spew profanities, though it only happened on three occasions: when he’s drunk, when they’re making love, or when he just woke up, all of which are exceptionally hot to the billionaire. 

Steve shouldered the door open, stumbled in on heavy feet and snapped a hand out to hang himself off the wall, the small corner into their toliet’s little room; he squeezed his eyes hard, shook his head again, much to his own disapproval, before peeling an eye open, then the other - it wasn’t that bad, he just wouldn’t be able to turn the light on without his vision spotting. Curse his husband and his beguiling lips. 

Just as he sighed, relief flooding him to his toes as he emptied his bladder, a shoulder knocked into his, another stream pelting the water. “Move, I drank more,” Tony grumbled, fiery like a puppy, and Steve rolled his eyes, finishing and tucking himself back into his boxers. 

“You gave me a headache, you moron, you don’t get to act entitled,” Steve retorted, shuffling out and yanking open the shower door, reaching in ungracefully and smacking the shower faucet, water spurting out. 

“You do know who you’re talking to, right?” Tony clapped back, the toilet flushing sounding all too loud at 6 am, the bathroom light, even if it was just the shower’s spotlight, all too bright. 

“Do not give me that obnoxious spiel of yours,” Steve quickly interjected, the words echoing in his head, clunking against his skull - ‘genius, playboy, philanthropist’. His hand was outstretched at his husband before the older smacked it away, sharp and instant like a bug. “Jeez...”

“You’re insufferable, you know that!” The older exclaims, and Steve was barely listening, for it was taking exceptional effort to pull his shirt over his head. “You get to go save the world and be the face of every damn billboard in the country, and you have the audacity to tell me what I can and can’t do!?” Steve stepped into the shower, sighing out when he dunked his head under the water, the spray hot and hard like bullets, and just when he thought he was saved, Tony’s voice got louder.

“…that serum running through your veins, making you all jacked and shit, while I have a reactor in my chest keeping my heart beating. If anything, you’re bullying the disabled, and boy would that be a beautiful lawsuit - one that I wouldn’t fund!” 

Steve groaned and stepped out of the water, pushing his bangs from his eyes, blinking hard, before watching Tony slink under the water like he owned it, like it was his rightfult place, and Steve watched the water run down his freckled skin; how it swung around moles and got stuck in the wrinkles of his shoulders when he went to streak his fingers through his hair, how it sparkled off his ass, plump with that little bit of flab, perhaps with a permenant indent of a certain captain’s fingers. 

Steve stepped forward enough for him to perch his chin on Tony’s head, eyes casting down to admire the way the latter’s chest glistened, how skin folded over itself as the man bent under his weight. “I’m not leaning against you.”

“Yeah, but you’re built like a tank. Imagine being crushed by a tank - and don’t hit me with a ‘that never happened’, it sounds exactly like the stupid shit you and Barnes got into.”

Steve snorted and quirked a smirk - his husband, unfortunately, wasn’t wrong. Something caught his eye, though, and when the younger glanced down, he found a very ironic sight: Tony’s cock, half hard. 

The younger scoffed, a sly smile curling his perfect face. “Your soldier is standing at attention.”

Tony, as if the appendage wasn’t attached to him, snapped his head down, hands flying up like he got caught bending the rules too much to flatten back out. “What the fuck is that about?”

And Steve knew, with a minor throb of his receding headache, that ten years of marriage has him well-equiped for this moment; he knows his husband better than himself, knows that Tony likes picking fights, espeically one’s that he can win, and that he loves bickering with his husband, that eventually Steve tunes it out and gives up, gives in to whatever the older was blabbering about, much to the billionaire’s delight. So, if the pieces fit together, shouldn’t they go with each other? Tony bickering the moment he wakes, that he starts petty squabbles to get something, that Tony’s dick has only stood taller the longer he leans against the older. 

“You’re not as sneaky as you think you are,” Steve finally murmurs, slicing the head off whatever Tony was saying, leaving him with a gaping mouth. “Wow, I’ve stunned the stunner.”

“You - that’s not -“ Tony huffed, his hands colliding with his thighs in a delicious slap. “You’re a fucking ass.”

“I’ll be fucking your ass here soon,” Steve quips and curves his arms around the older, rough palms dragging up Tony’s chest and smiling when the man flinched as his thumbs ran over his nipples. 

“Yeesh, the mouth on you,” Tony grumbles, and Steve has to hold in a laugh when the older leans back, brow creased and eyes stamped shut like this was the last thing he wanted to do - give in to the masterfully crafted hands of his husband, god, sounds repulsive. “Wonder who you got it from.”

“Fury, realistically.” Steve’s smile flashed wicked when Tony scoffed, when the noise faltered as those big hands of his cupped the latter’s pectorals, squeezed like he had a point to prove. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Tony retorts, his words floating on a sigh, a sigh Steve knew all too well: he was his to mold, to knead, to split open and ruin. 

“I’m just responding to your taunts.” Steve’s voice was silk against Tony’s ear, lips somehow hotter than the water, pressed along the arch while he caught his husband doing the very same, with a shiver nonetheless. “Nothing more.” 

Tony scoffed, loud and clearly performative, yet flushed red when Steve’s head dipped down, began littering soft kisses along his jaw. “This is one hell of a response, then.” It took a swallow and another sigh before the older’s head was gently falling back against Steve’s shoulder, baring his beautifully slender neck for him, tan and freckled and oh so bare. He empathizes with vampires now, for the captain really sees the appeal, how breathtaking a bite mark would look on such supple skin. 

“You put on one hell of a show, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, tongue rolling the bone of the older’s jaw, caged with hot, wet lips. “Who am I not to give you your flowers?”

Steve didn’t see Tony’s reaction, but he heard it, and that’s all that mattered to the younger: that Tony sounded good, sounded like he was enjoying himself, relishing the way Steve gently pinched his nipples, how his lips suckled sweetly at his neck. “You can give me a lot more than flowers, Stevie.”

Ah, yes, Stevie - he had Tony exactly where he wanted him. 

“Do tell, my little genius,” Steve whispers, and it was a miracle it was heard over the spittle of water, over Tony’s huffs one could mistake for a running fever - and, fuck, it felt like one. Tony’s skin was scorching, Steve half expected it to sear his lips straight off as he mouthed along the slope of his shoulder, his hands finally giving the older’s nipples some peace just for them to snake around his hips. His movements were slow but punctual, purposeful, for his fingertips pressed into Tony’s hips until the skin caved, the sharp curve of his hipbone digging into Steve’s palm just as his lips returned to that arch. “What do you want?”

“Fuck,” Tony panted out - yes, fine, he was panting and he’d barely been touched, his nipples tweaked and half of his neck kissed, and that made him hard, painfully so. His cock was damn near horizontal, a pearl of precome forming when Tony had the air to speak again: “It worked too well.”

“Did it?” Steve was quick to reply, low and velvety as his hips pushed forward, just enough for his dick to sit between Tony’s cheeks, perfectly nestled. “So you admit you were riling me up just to get fucked in the shower?” Tony’s mouth dropped open, but Steve was faster, knew he had the upper hand. “Your ego is still too high to ask for cock? Really?”

Steve could’ve cheered when he saw Tony’s entire body glow red, a tantalizing mixture of embarrasment and lust, guilt-ridden desire, and whatever breathy retort was lost between the younger’s teeth, his tongue stealing the words and pocketing them for later; their tongues twirled over one anothers, Steve’s teeth too eager this early in the morning, for they nipped and chased after Tony’s, the thought that those little blotches were from him making him push his dick against his husband harder. Tony let out some noise, probably a mewl or a whine that he’d curse himself for, but Steve swallowed it, his hand snapping back up to his chest and squeezing, nails pricking beautiful skin. 

“Holy shit, Rogers, are you trying to eat me alive?” 

Tony’s voice was hoarse - fuck, it was rasping, and Steve had to tense his shoulders and tighten his jaw to keep himself from acting rashly. 

“You say that like it’s not exactly what you want,” Steve breathed out, his hands back to Tony’s hips, guiding, pushing with what was left of his grace, until the older was flush along the tiles. Now, Steve adored missionary, but not for the simplicity of it, the inherent ‘vanilla’, but the gift of seeing his husband’s face contort and twist, shudder and flicker, and yet, something about crushing the man into the nearest wall, flattening the wriggling, fiesty thing into submission was dizzying. 

“Because you know what I want.” It was half-hearted, blurted out before he could think, like when words slip from drunken lips, and Steve grinned, cat-like. 

“Oh, baby,” Steve whispered, inching closer, until all of him was along all of his husband. “You’re lucky I love you, or that mouth would’ve served you papers.”

Tony’s mouth parted, a bark sharp on his tongue, when another noise stole its place, a high-pitched gasp, shrill like a schoolgirl’s. “Motherfucker,” the older shuddered out, shivering against the tiles and pushing his ass back into his husband’s hand, the finger that poked at his hole, eager and pulsing. “Stevie…”

“Yes, sweetheart?” Condescending, a little mocking, but it made Tony flush, and that’s all Steve needed. “Do you know how to ask nicely?” 

Steve’s finger - how the older man missed was beyond him, though with the man huffing and licking at his neck like a bear to honeycomb, his mind was split - pressed against the rim again, the muscle puffing up, out, asking for bliss, and he bit at Tony’s neck, warring with himself. Should he wait to see if his husband lets the last of his ego slip, or keep pestering him, poking a hissing cat? 

Tony answered for him: “I know how to beg. Would you like that, captain?” 

Oh, the cheeky fucker, he knew what that teasing name did to Steve, how it made his mind cloud like grease swiped across glass, like how the steam fogged the bathroom until one couldn’t breathe - and that was damn near impossible now. Steve was able to blink, just once, before his middle finger was sliding into his husband’s hole, warm and with a pinch of resistance, like Tony was trying to make himself tight. The man sighed, ended the noise with a low whine, and pushed back into the younger’s hand, and Steve had little to cling to, his restraint laughable, so he indulged, pushed in until his palm was cupping his cheeks, his finger tilting up to press against cushioned walls.

“You trying to stay quiet?” Steve taunted, his smile poison against Tony’s ear; Tony, who was panting into the tiles and trying to keep his rutting subtle, but the shower was too slick, his dick too neglected, and the other was just beginning to tease a second finger around his rim. “Egotistical and shy, what a frustrating combination.”

“I’m not fucking shy, you dumb - fuck,” Tony interjected, the fire on his tongue fizzling out when Steve’s index slid in beside his middle, gently pushing him open. Tony’s forehead hit the tiles as Steve’s tongue dove back home, along the ridges of his husband’s collarbones and the delightful slopes of his shoulder, mouthing at the curve like a teething baby. “Stevie, stop playing around.”

“What?” Steve lazily objected, his free hand, which was very busy kneading his ass, leaving indents that’ll stand the test of time, snaking up and curling gently around Tony’s neck, tipping his chin back so he could see his eyes. They were glazed, half open, and honeyed. Perfect. “I thought you liked it when I played with you? Hmm?” To further prove his point, Steve curled his fingers up, the tips pulsing against the older’s walls, and Tony shuddered hard, eyes fluttering, and mouth dropping open. The opportunity presented itself beautifully, so Steve didn’t feel bad slamming his lips onto Tony’s and sucking at anything that so much as peeked into the captain’s mouth, choking down the latter’s whines, defeated noises, because he knew the younger would tease him, but not when he’s occupied. 

“Leaking all over the tiles,” Steve panted out eventually, spit glittering off Tony’s lips. He tsked. “Messy boy.”

“Steve!” Tony groaned, and it actually sounded like he tried covering up the moan. 

“Yes?” The man purred, teeth pricking his earlobe, using the tips of his fingers to pulse at the older’s walls, adoring the shiver that ran through him. 

“For fuck’s sake, fuck me!” 

Steve’s hand was gone, leaving a hole miserably empty, a man frustrated and disappointed, but not for long, for his dick wiggled itself right between Tony’s cheeks again, warm and waiting. “Now, was that so hard?”

“You condescending bastard! Just because you have me bent over -“

“Incorrect. You’re against a wall.”

“-Can it, Rogers-“

“That never applies to you, it seems.”

“Because I’m the one making valid points in this relationship -“

“Oh, so the fact you’re dripping all over the shower isn’t true?”

“Valid and true are two different things -“

“They’re both based on fact, my love.”

“Will you stop trying to one-up - god…damn.”

Finally, tranquility. A quiet punctuated by the drilling of the shower and the weak gasps of his husband, the feeble stamps of his fingers against the tiles as Steve pushes his dick in, the resistance he met before amplified, but only a little, for as much as Steve loved to tease Tony over his loose slit, the former’s situation is no better. Steve leans into the older, no longer molding into him, but instead aligning himself, pushing further in until his pelvis hits the plush curve of Tony’s ass, until they are joined in more ways than one. 

“Always so warm for me, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, cursing himself for how delirious he got the second he sinks home.

“Keep myself up to temperature just for you,” Tony bites back, his words barely audible over the spittle, and Steve knows right then he isn’t going to last long. 

The soldier starts a moderate pace, and while yes, he does have the stamina to slam an imprint of his husband into the shower wall, it’s 7 in the morning, and Tony’s already puffing. His hands can’t find a good place, kneading the skin at the older’s hips before venturing up to cup his pectorals, squeezing in time with his thrusts before smoothing down his stomach, pushing him back into Steve’s movements, making Tony go boneless, head flopping back with a gaping mouth, finally letting some moans out. They were helpless moans, too, brittle and guilty, like he didn’t want to be acting this way, like becoming a puddle in the younger’s hands was deplorable. And maybe it was, but it didn’t matter between them, not when Steve was kissing that spot in Tony that made him whine. 

“God, I’m going to cum,” Steve groaned into Tony’s ear, his movements sloppy, more frantic grinding than pointed thrusts, and Tony’s lips quirked into a grin, going for a retort before a hand wrapped around his dick, squeezing, albeit too hard, but it was bliss, making his eyes fizzle over. 

“Never…fuck, never did last - long.” 

Tony sounded a mess, fumbling over his words, and who wouldn’t when Steve had his fist pistoning fast along his cock, his hips pushing him from behind, encouraging him to take more, to feel more. And, with a broken cry from the older, a deep, baritone groan from the younger, they came; Tony spilled into Steve’s hand in hard spurts, each one jolting his body forward, a hand at his forehead to keep his genius intact. Steve slammed in once, twice, before his entire body shivered, curving inward as he spilled himself into his husband, long and continuous, blissful and warm, so warm. 

They stay together, bonded in a way that’s so natural to them, before Tony groaned, peeled his forehead off Steve’s palm. “It always ends too soon.”

Steve grins, something sweet finally coming from his husband, and he presses a wet kiss below his ear, licking over the mark. “Blame our age, my love.”

“You mean blame mine,” Tony corrects, hands flattening against the tiles, pushing himself up with great effort and a grimace. “I’m the one who actually looks to be aging.”

“And you’re doing so gracefully,” The younger was quick to add in, grin inching wider when he heard the older scoff, surely rolling his eyes, yet he was preoccupied with his neck, how little blocthes he left. 

“You’re relentless,” Tony grumbles, and yet, for the first time that day, he turns to peck Steve’s lips, and the latter has to restrain himself from chasing after them. 

“I love you too.”

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