Steve tosses him a lazy salute. Now that he's out of bed - and now that Tony's no longer there - he's not inclined to get back in. But he does shamelessly enjoy that brief glimpse of Tony's ass, smiling to himself as he remembers grinding against it just a few minutes ago.
"I'll be waiting." Maybe a bit too eagerly, but Steve can't be blamed for his overactive libido.
Tony gives a fleeting smile, rigid in every sense of the word, and a tingle travels up his spine. Out of Steve's sight he flattens his erection to his left hip to trap it behind the jeans, which he yanks up from the floor. He coughs to hide a pained grunt. Steve's presence somehow envelops him, the remembered body heat like hot wax poured over his hunched shoulders. He shoves his sneakers on and darts to the door. Halfway through, he backpedals, squeaks out a thanks, and flees.
Consumed by escaping temptation, he completely forgets about his A-shirt still wrinkled on the carpet beside Steve's bed.
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"I'll be waiting." Maybe a bit too eagerly, but Steve can't be blamed for his overactive libido.
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Consumed by escaping temptation, he completely forgets about his A-shirt still wrinkled on the carpet beside Steve's bed.