Tony returns the smile. "He missed out then," he agrees, and then his smile turns quirky. (Tony feels good, lighter, the best in months, after relinquishing some of the words about Ultron and his parents to someone he trusts. It doesn't fix anything, the pain's still present, but talking has made it easier to bear.) He leans in conspiratorially for the upcoming joke, though he admits he wants to be closer, too; he's falling just that little bit more for Steve Rogers. "And I'm glad he did, because otherwise this," he continues about Howard, motioning between himself and Steve, "would be way weirder."
Steve laughs, glad that Tony can see the humor in what might otherwise make things awkward. "I'll tell you this much," and he leans in to steal a quick kiss from Tony. "Your facial hair is a lot better." He's grown accustomed to the way Tony's goatee feels against his face, the prickle of hair against his skin. Tony's human to him in a way he'd never quite managed to achieve with Howard. It might be the battles they've fought together, the rapport they've developed over the years. It's something that made him fall for Tony emotionally, not just physically. He can't imagine it happening with Howard, aloof as the other man had been with him. Tony's not easy to love, but maybe the challenge is what attracted Steve in the first place.
"Score one for me," Tony murmurs, body tipped toward Steve and face raised just so from the quick kiss. His features quickly shift into something mischievous. "Or is it eighteen? How many orgasms have there been again?" Tony muses aloud. His number alone is lower, but he's marking Steve's orgasms as personal wins as well.
"I think keeping track is probably a lost cause." Steve laughs softly. "Especially if you ever decide to see if there's a limit to how many I can have." Which he knows Tony fully intends to do in the name of science, but whether or not either of them will be able to keep track by the end is another question entirely. Maybe FRIDAY can do it, although Steve's not sure how comfortable he is with an AI tracking his orgasms.
"But if you'd like to tack another one on, we probably have time for that." He kisses Tony again, still more or less chaste. Steve knows that this isn't the place to do it, not in what is so clearly a shrine to his parents' memory. "How many bedrooms are in this house?"
Tony's cheeks lift in a widened smile. "Eh. Bedroom, couch, floor. Wall. We'll stumble onto something," he says and stands, hand still clasped in Steve's, tugging him up. "Let's work you up an appetite so I can get more grub in ya for your long journey north."
"I don't think you have to try to work up any kind of appetite," Steve remarks dryly, letting himself be pulled to his feet. His body doesn't need encouragement to crave food or sex; it's like being a teenage boy almost ten decades late. "But you can work your wicked wiles on me anyway, I'm not gonna protest." With his free hand, he pinches a generous portion of ass, gently propelling him out of the room. "Pick a door, Stark."
The pinch startles Tony into a squeak and cuts off his next remark. Face turned aside, he wets his lips through the relentless smile, arousal already rising, and wordlessly leads Steve to another room, where Tony easily gives himself over.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
"But if you'd like to tack another one on, we probably have time for that." He kisses Tony again, still more or less chaste. Steve knows that this isn't the place to do it, not in what is so clearly a shrine to his parents' memory. "How many bedrooms are in this house?"
no subject
no subject
no subject