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[gotup]

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[myheartglows]

Steve's gentle tone appeases any worry for now. Settled into an in-between state, mind slowed but not stopped, Tony shoves all else aside but physical sensation and Steve's voice. At his first slow, full stroke, abiding to Steve's instructions, he thunks his head back against the headboard and groans, which he exaggerates, painting the picture for Steve through noise: Tony slouched back, naked but collared, legs splayed open. He notes to bring up voyeurism in detail later, too. "Okay," he confirms, raspy, and rolls one nipple between his fingers. Behind his closed eyelids, the image of Steve forms as prompted. Steve sits in a far chair, hungering and muttering awed compliments; or he patrols the bed like a general assessing his troop. Tony slips down flat onto the bed with a keen, no exaggeration needed.

[gotup]

"Yeah," Steve murmurs under his breath, stroking himself in time with the mental image of Tony, forcing himself to keep his pace slow. He doesn't know what to say, can't quite focus on it enough, but at least that means he's not overthinking things, either. "You hard enough to be leaking yet?" He is, but that doesn't mean Tony's the same way. "I want you to get some on the pad of your thumb, smear it over your bottom lip so you can taste it. Imagine me kissing you and licking it off slowly."

[myheartglows]

After tweaking his nipples into nubs, Tony moves that hand down to his balls and perineum. He needs to work himself up more to follow those orders, so he caresses his sack and ghosts his fingertips along the fine hairs behind it, but the image of Steve moves across and over him and prompts another: Steve inside him. Tony gasps. "Wait. J-just a sec. M'trying. Wait, wait, please. Steve?" He needs to be leaking to fulfill that. It takes him longer. He can't fail.

[gotup]

"Shh," Steve soothes him, "take your time." He really needs to remember that not everyone has his libido, and that Tony will do everything he possibly can to obey his orders. "I can wait, sweetheart. I know you can do it, that you can get hard and aching for me." Talking like this still sounds awkward to his ears, and he's privately glad Tony isn't here to see how much he's blushing. But he's also working himself over while he talks, and the arousal takes some of the nervous edge off.

[myheartglows]

"Nnh, I can. I can," Tony mumbles. In lieu of Steve's physical presence, the collar anchors Tony down just enough. It and his cock become focal points of heat, deep red in his mind. Stroking still (nice and slow, like Steve said) with his hand, he fondles himself with the other, rubbing his sack and brushing one finger down, back, until it touches the rim of his hole. "Steve?" he groans, though his voice quivers with a little fear. He's never had a guy that way, and especially not anything as big as Steve, but he wants to try it, he wants to feel Steve inside -- or so his halfway-under brain thinks.

[gotup]

"Yeah?" He can hear the question in Tony's voice, but he can't figure out what he's asking with that tone. "You need to go faster?" Steve tries to sound gentler, softer. Tony wants to do everything he can to please him, and Steve needs him to know that he's good enough, that he doesn't need to worry about failure. He doesn't want to accidentally do something wrong and break him entirely, to ruin the trust he's carefully placed in his hands.

[myheartglows]

"No, uh, I was jus' ... thinking 'bout next time." Tony squeezes his eyes shut tighter and calls upon the necessary words through the fog. "You wanna watch me, right? That's voyeurism, by the way, and that's good, 'cause I like putting on a show, but I was thinking you can watch me finger myself open?" With the way he's under, that comes out less seductive and more suggestive. "So you could, uh..." Tony shudders, torn between considering his words and the approaching orgasm, finally leaking precum. He tightens his hand and rubs along his rim. The next words he moans out, voice small, swiping his thumb across his cockhead and losing himself to the moment and begging, "Fuck me, please?"

[gotup]

"Shit," Steve swears emphatically; the thought of just being in Tony, feeling him hot and tight around him, makes all his muscles tense as arousal surges through him. The sound of skin moving quickly against skin is just barely loud enough for the phone to pick up, and then there's an audible moan, long and obscene. It's followed by what would be silence, except for the sound of Steve breathing heavily.

He's thought of having sex - hell, he's thought about it since the first time Tony went down on him. But he hasn't pressed the issue at all because it makes him nervous, because he doesn't know what the hell he's doing - even more so than usual - and he doesn't know if Tony can stay with it enough to talk him through it (and of course he's assuming that Tony has experience, because he's Tony). He knows how it works in theory, but the practice makes him worry.

"I'd love to," he pants. "Wanna- wanna feel you come with me inside you, Tony." Steve keeps stroking his spent cock, though it's slow and lazy, and even that much stimulation makes him shiver. "Want you to come for me."

[myheartglows]

Briefly releasing his cock, Tony smears the precum across his lower lip, which he draws in with his teeth, tasting it, his imagination a wonderful boon: Steve kissing him, fucking him, Steve's moan influencing the fantasy. Tony returns to stroking with breathy "yeah"s and then, at Steve's last order, he dips deeper into subspace, just until he comes, till he feels it in his mind as much as in his crotch. "Yes, sir," he slurs.

[gotup]

"Imagine you're tasting me on your lips." Steve's caught his breath a little; he's splayed out on his bed, his stomach a mess of rapidly-cooling come, but he doesn't move to clean it up just yet. "Imagine me fucking your mouth first, then getting hard again while I watch you open yourself up for me. Making you wait till you're desperate for it, till you want me more than anything else. And then I fuck you hard and fast, I dig my fingers into your ass till I leave marks behind and you'll be able to see the bruises when you look in the mirror later. God, you have a nice ass." He blushes again, his cheeks and ears bright red. Steve never would have predicted the obscenities that are spilling from his mouth even a month ago - not that he's some sort of saint, but he's never talked like this before.

(But he really does like Tony's ass a lot.)

[myheartglows]

Tony whines. His hand picks up pace, the other pressing one finger in just barely. In his head Steve is all over, around and inside him. Tony babbles, high-pitched, "Please, please, please, please, please," until his balls cramp in that lovely way and he comes, back arched, snapped up. The noise he makes is shivery, a drawn-out whimper. Afterward, he lies limp, dazed, and contented. Over the phone, his last groan sounds more tired than anything.

[gotup]

"I bet you look beautiful right now." Steve's voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough for the phone to pick up. "Gorgeous and messy and limp. I wish I could be there to kiss you, Tony." He wishes he could gather Tony up in his arms and murmur sweet nothings in his ear and tell him how wonderful he is, how much he-

One of these days, he's going to go too far with the pillow talk, Steve half-realizes. But why worry about something that hasn't happened yet?

"You gotta clean yourself up, sweetheart." It's easier to use terms of endearment the more he does it, less awkward-feeling. "Once you catch your breath." He's used, too, to telling Tony what to do afterwards, to make sure he's taken care of.

[myheartglows]

When Tony rolls his head toward Steve's voice, he half-expects to see Steve lying beside him. Instead it's just the shadowy shape of his phone face-down on the nightstand, its backlight only a hint underneath. He whines lowly in protest, but he's already fitting his scattered pieces back together. Without Steve as a physical anchor, Tony floats slowly to the surface. As comfortable and cool as his bed feels, he knows he'll regret not cleaning up. "Okay," he says, words soft and slow, "but ya gotta stay on the phone till I go to sleep. Those're my terms 'n they're non-negotiable." He slurs negotiable. Big word for his brain to communicate to his mouth right now.

[gotup]

"Of course," he promises softly. "I'm not gonna leave you all alone, Tony." Steve worries a little about the effects of subdrop without him physically there to help Tony through it, but he can at least make sure he takes care of himself in his absence. He rests his head on the pillow for another few moments, but eventually reaches out to grab the box of tissues on his nightstand.

"Don't forget to put some clothes back on," he adds as he cleans himself up. Steve makes a bit of a face at the mess, but it's not like it's unusual. "Gotta keep warm without me there to heat your bed for you."

[myheartglows]

While Tony gives no verbal response, simply following whatever command Steve gives, Steve will hear the phone being moved, then running water and some clattering. After a couple minutes, the phone is jostled again only to be tossed onto the puffy winter blankets with a poof. Distant rustling grows closer until the bed springs bounce and the phone moves once more, this time closer to Tony's mouth; he's placed it on the pillow as a poor substitute for Steve. At least with his eyes shut Tony can imagine him there again. Curled on his side, clothed, the collar still fastened, he floats in that pleasant space where he can see everything on his mind, but it's all far behind a solid wall of glass. He's untouchable by it. He can sleep.

"Steve? M'done," he reports. He tugs the blankets tight around him like a full-body embrace and burrows in. "Was there, uh... anything else, or can I say hi to Morpheus now?"

[gotup]

"Mm." By now, Steve's curled up under the blankets himself, wishing he had Tony there to wrap around. The physicality is surprisingly reassuring for him after a scene, too. (Okay, and he's just a big goddamn cuddler.) "You can go to sleep, Tony." Steve covers a yawn at the end of his sentence and nestles into the pillow. "'m saving those pictures of you," he adds.

[myheartglows]

Pillow wedged in to cushion the collar, Tony rests his hand on it, fingers brushing the phone to keep it from slipping down. "Good. I 'spect one framed in your office," he jokes, half-asleep.

[gotup]

"I dunno if I'd go that far," Steve retorts, an undercurrent of laughter in his voice. But he's definitely keeping them on his phone for, ah, future reference. "You planning on coming here soon, or should I visit the city?" It's been too long since he got to see Tony, and he can leave Nat in charge of the new Avengers for a few days if he has to.

[myheartglows]

"Come here?" Tony mumbles so quietly; whether he's just parroting Steve's words or asking Steve to visit is up for grabs. After this, no other sound comes from Tony's end save for a soft hum.

[gotup]

Steve waits for several minutes before he whispers Tony's name - not loudly enough to wake him if he's sleeping, but to see if he's awake. When there's no response, he adds a whispered, "Good night," then hangs up the phone and, thankfully, falls asleep quickly himself.

[myheartglows]

On his waking breath the next morning, Tony stretches his arm out. He reaches for someone, some amalgamate of Steve and Pepper in his sleep-addled brain, but only feels more bed sheets. Clarity seeps in and he opens his eyes to muted, grey sunlight, just rising, through the closed curtains. He groans and hugs the pillow closer until something hard and cold slips over and down his arm. Right. His phone. Their little sexy time last night with the promise of something more soon. That happened.

Sitting up, Tony rubs his eyes clear of gunk. Among the wealth of things on his itinerary, he thinks he should let Steve know he's okay. The lug worries and takes aftercare way too seriously. Probably killed the big softie not being able to tuck Tony in snug as a bug in a rug. They need to schedule their next date, anyway. There: a practical reason to text. He opens a message.

Good morning, America. Breaking news right now is that Tony Stark slept great and Steve Rogers has a dirty dirty mouth. Are these two phenomenon related? Stay tuned.

[gotup]

When Tony wakes up, Steve's already in the office, taking care of some paperwork before a training session he has scheduled with Sam and Rhodey. His phone buzzes, alerting him to a text, and he finishes the requisition form he's on before setting it aside to read. The text makes him blush again, thinking of everything he'd said last night. Frankly, he's still not sure how he managed all that.

Why do I ever encourage you?

[myheartglows]

Not sure. Honestly poor decision-making on your part, Tony sends, smiling, freshened up for the day. On his way to the kitchen for breakfast and in a fit of whimsy, he slides down the grand staircase's banister on his butt. He feels solid. Ready to persevere through every challenge and hardship, even the painful knowledge of his past failures.

[gotup]

That describes most of my life, more or less. Steve takes a healthy sip from the coffee mug sitting at his elbow after sending the text, then starts typing another. Did you mean what you said last night, about coming down for a visit? As nice as their little session had been, it's only making him miss Tony all the more.

[myheartglows]

Coffee brewing, Tony considers staging a humorous photo of him, overly sultry, blowing a banana from the fruit bowl, but opts for fixing eggs on toast instead. Yeah, sure, he types, and pauses. He looks around the kitchen from the checkered tiles to the bay window above the table. How would it feel seeing Captain America ghosting around these floors and intermingling with old memories of resentment and a fresher sense of inferiority? Mashing his past and present together like that?

He's getting ahead of himself. Maybe they'll just meet for dinner and a walk through Central Park or at the Tower. Tony adds, Did you mean what YOU said about not diddling myself without you? and sends.