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[ HYDRA, as it turned out, had been working on other biological projects, which Steve had discovered one night late in the war when he infiltrated a small outpost and found a number of wolves. At first, he'd thought they had just been exceptionally resilient animal specimens - he'd had to set the house on fire and trap them inside to escape after he'd run out of ammunition.
When the full moon came, he discovered that they hadn't just been wolves, they had been werewolves. He turned into a beast, ran through the forest, and when dawn came, he found himself miles from camp, naked on a bed of pine needles.
(That had been a little awkward.)
A few months later, he'd gone under the ice, and nothing mattered anymore.
Fast-forward a good few decades, and Steve's out of the ice and managing his furry little problem the best he can. Which is to say, he disappears once a month and hope nobody notices. That hasn't been a problem till now. He's ostensibly under house arrest in Stark Tower, and, okay, he knows Tony won't care if he leaves, won't tell the government that he's suddenly disappeared. But that doesn't mean he's not paranoid about it.
There's really nothing he can do, though. Sure, he could probably spend the full moon curled up in his room, but he knows Tony has cameras in there to monitor him (doesn't blame him for it), and that's obviously a problem. He'll just have to suck it up and sneak out.
He's pretty sure Tony's preoccupied with something - a meeting, genius Tony things, whatever - when he casually strolls out of the tower before sunset in a hoodie, baseball cap tucked under his arm. Once he's safely out of view, he puts the baseball cap on, pulls up the hood - he can't wear sunglasses right now, that would just look weird. It's not far to the park, but he can feel the tug of the moon in his bones, and it makes him walk a little faster.
Steve wishes he would've had a chance to scope out the park ahead of time; right now, he just has to strip down and hope to god nobody steals his clothes as he stashes them deep in a copse of trees. And then- then the change hits, twisting his bones, reforming his body. It feels like the serum did every time, hurts like hell, but soon enough he's on four legs.
The wolf in him misses the jungles of Wakanda; they'd been hot, but wild, full of animals to hunt. The city isn't the same, not when the park isn't big enough to really run through, not when the biggest animals in the bushes are squirrels and rabbits. It feels distinctly unsatisfying; he wants to hunt, to feel the exhilaration as he brings down his prey, the hot blood on his tongue. As he thinks about it, there's a rustle in the underbrush behind him, and without thinking, he tenses his muscles and leaps. ]
When the full moon came, he discovered that they hadn't just been wolves, they had been werewolves. He turned into a beast, ran through the forest, and when dawn came, he found himself miles from camp, naked on a bed of pine needles.
(That had been a little awkward.)
A few months later, he'd gone under the ice, and nothing mattered anymore.
Fast-forward a good few decades, and Steve's out of the ice and managing his furry little problem the best he can. Which is to say, he disappears once a month and hope nobody notices. That hasn't been a problem till now. He's ostensibly under house arrest in Stark Tower, and, okay, he knows Tony won't care if he leaves, won't tell the government that he's suddenly disappeared. But that doesn't mean he's not paranoid about it.
There's really nothing he can do, though. Sure, he could probably spend the full moon curled up in his room, but he knows Tony has cameras in there to monitor him (doesn't blame him for it), and that's obviously a problem. He'll just have to suck it up and sneak out.
He's pretty sure Tony's preoccupied with something - a meeting, genius Tony things, whatever - when he casually strolls out of the tower before sunset in a hoodie, baseball cap tucked under his arm. Once he's safely out of view, he puts the baseball cap on, pulls up the hood - he can't wear sunglasses right now, that would just look weird. It's not far to the park, but he can feel the tug of the moon in his bones, and it makes him walk a little faster.
Steve wishes he would've had a chance to scope out the park ahead of time; right now, he just has to strip down and hope to god nobody steals his clothes as he stashes them deep in a copse of trees. And then- then the change hits, twisting his bones, reforming his body. It feels like the serum did every time, hurts like hell, but soon enough he's on four legs.
The wolf in him misses the jungles of Wakanda; they'd been hot, but wild, full of animals to hunt. The city isn't the same, not when the park isn't big enough to really run through, not when the biggest animals in the bushes are squirrels and rabbits. It feels distinctly unsatisfying; he wants to hunt, to feel the exhilaration as he brings down his prey, the hot blood on his tongue. As he thinks about it, there's a rustle in the underbrush behind him, and without thinking, he tenses his muscles and leaps. ]

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[ And, okay, maybe he feels guilty about that. Hell, for all he knows, they were American POWs who'd been experimented on, not willing volunteers. Now that he knows about Bucky, that seems a lot more plausible. But it's in the past, and there's not really anything he can do about it. ]
I don't really know if or how the serum's interacted with anything. I mean, it's not like I have a baseline for this sort of thing, you know? I just...am.
[ As for how he's evaded notice - well, a lot of stupid luck, mostly. That's the only way to explain it. ]
Werewolf, Tony, not murder puppy. And if you call me Fluffy again, I'm going to- [ Well, he's not sure what he's going to do, but it's going to be drastic.
Except not.] I don't know if I did or not. I mean, this has never happened to me before. Something happened, 'cause you're not dead, but I don't know what did. You're the science guy, you figure it out.no subject
[ Tony blinks again, continuing to just... sit on Steve with a perplexed look on his face, one hand coming up to rub along the scar that now marred his neck. That-- yeah, that shouldn't have healed. Tony should be dead in the woods and while he isn't complaining about this outcome it is a lot for him to deal with.
So is a naked Steve.
Naked Steve who was totally the wolf he was talking to last night about how much he was frustrated and pining over him. Wow, shit. It is a surprised that Steve hasn't punched him yet. Or tried to maul him again. Tony winces, peering down at Steve.]
So, I might have said some things....
[ He he is going to say more, honestly, but then he moves back and-- oh. Oh. Um. Well that is-- interesting. ]
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[ Oh, Tony, why did you have to move? It's already taking almost all of Steve's self-control to not do anything, and now-
Now it's even harder. So to speak.
Steve just sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes. No. This is a traumatic experience for Tony, and he's definitely not going to do anything stupid that might make things even worse, no matter how much he might want to. ]
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[ Wait... he wasn't supposed to say that. Fuck. Shit. This is why he should have run like, the moment he got up.
And now he's saying shit he should have taken to his grave, the thought of him being a murder puppy lost to the back of his mind because Steve is fucking hard beneath him and oh shit oh shit oh shit, this is--
Tony shivers, looking a little caught as he freezes, ass pressed against Steve's hips and erection and he can't move, can't breathe without adding to the friction and there is a tiny voice telling Tony that, hey, maybe Steve isn't as against this as he thought. Or maybe it's some by product of the werewolf thing. Or a full moon thing. Or--
There is a quite whimper as Tony's fingers curl, pressing against Steve's shoulders, and:]
Shit.
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Better hurry up and choose, Stark.
[ And maybe it is a byproduct of the werewolf thing, but that doesn't mean that Steve doesn't want it, that he hasn't wanted it for awhile now. Maybe not like this, where his gaze has to skate over Tony's throat every time he looks at him because otherwise it's hard to breathe when he thinks about what he's done. Maybe not even on Tony's living room floor. ]
C'mon, we can play Little Red Riding Hood. I'll even give you a head start if you want.
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And then Steve speaks and, well, fuck that.
Tony's gaze narrows, fingers tangling in Steve's hair as he pulls him down and kisses him. His kisses are hungry, all teeth and tongue and taunting. Daring Steve to match him, to take this further.]
Hnn, you want me in a little red skirt and stockings, Rogers? How interesting.
[ The words are light against his lips before Tony is kissing him again, pulling Steve closer if he can.]
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[ There's a growl in his throat as he kisses Tony, hips working against him, fingers curling around his biceps hard enough to leave marks. A wave of animal need rolls over him, and god, he's so hard it goddamn hurts. He breaks the kiss for just a moment, barely pulling away from Tony's lips. ]
Tell me you have lube in here.
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[ You are going to find a decked out Tony now just to fucking prove he would look amazing in it. Fucker. But for right now, Tony is a little busy trying to steal Steve's breath and cant his hips up, seeking friction for his rapidly hardening cock because, fuck, Steve is fucking entrancing like this. He totally gets the deer in a predator's gaze thing right now. Wow. There is a whine trapped in his throat when Steve pulls away, and Tony nips at his lips.
That is just who Tony is.]
Nnnn, yeah. In... the drawer of the side table by your feet.
[ What. He has needed it before. ]
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[ Steve pulls away for a moment, snags the lube. Thinks about actually ripping those damn jeans off just because he can, but no, they probably cost more than a month's worth of food. Instead, he slides them down, glances at Tony. ]
You think you can take me?
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[ That is something that Tony can get behind. And he will probably think about this part of the conversation later and jerk himself off because, well, that is one hell of an image for him. If he was thinking with his genius head, he would wonder if this wasn't a hallucination brought on by bloodloss, but the pressure of Steve right there is too real.
Tony grunts when he jeans are pulled off, raising an eyebrow at Steve at his question. He takes a moment to look Steve over, raking his eyes down Steve in a way that was clearly appreciating before he catches his eye again.]
Long as you go slow, I'll be fine.
[ He might make Steve carry him around the rest of the day, but whatever.]
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[ Hey, even Steve Rogers can have a secret dirty side. And while cross-dressing isn't necessarily one of his kinks, he can get behind Tony femmeing it up for him.
Uh-huh. Slow. That's gonna happen. Steve pops the cap off the lube, makes sure to use more than he normally would. Nudges Tony's thighs apart with a knee. ]
Bring your legs up for me.
[ He knows Tony knows what he's talking about, he's had far more sex than him. Once he's got his legs up, Steve guides his cock in slowly, muscles straining with the effort of holding back. ]
Oh fuck.
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Smirk still in place, Tony shifts and pulls his legs up, a fleeting sense of vulnerable shooting through him; for once it only seems to make him want this more and fuck, this was one hell of a morning. As soon as he feels the head of Steve's cock nudging against his entrance, he drops his head back and moans.
Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. He is so lucky that he uses his large array of toys on a somewhat regular basis or this would not be comfortable right now. Steve is-- well Steve is at least patient, pushing in slowly and god, Tony can't help the hitch in his breathing at the slow burn, the feeling of his body opening up to Steve slowly.]
Fuck, Steve... Steve, shit. So good, fuck.
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Steve keeps pushing till he's finally buried to the hilt, and fuck, he's so tight and hot and this is definitely not going to be slow at all in a few minutes. But right now, he still has enough restraint to hold back, putting some more lube on his cock as he eases back out nearly all the way. ]
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Yeah, he can almost feel the tension radiating from Steve, the coiled power and want and god, he is so fucking screwed.]
Steve, shit, c'mon, you feel so good, so good oh god, need you to fuck me. Need... need to fucking feel you for days Steve, St--
[ Tony bites at his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to stop the flow of words that he knows would eventually spiral into pleas and... he doesn't know how he feels about that just now.]
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The growl rumbles in his chest again, and he bites along Tony's jaw, teeth scraping through stubble, leaving a trail of reddened marks behind. He needs this, can feel the beast lurking just behind his eyes, fighting to break free. Both sides of him need this, wolf and human. ]
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As soon as Steve's mouth leaves his own, Tony has curses and pleas slipping from his lips, demanding Steve give him more, that he fuck Tony harder, arches as best he can to get more. Tony has no idea if this is a one time thing or not, if Steve is only doing this because he feels guilty, or because of some weird lingering effects of the full moon, but Tony fully intends to use it to his advantage. Demanding everything, cajoling the blond into leaving marks on his skin so that he can remember.
Tipping his head back, Tony tries for as enticing as possible, all his years in the spotlight surfacing as he taunts Steve, taunts the side that has less control that Tony can see just beyond the control.]
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[ The curse is clipped and loud and, shit, Tony has never gone from zero to sixty so fucking fast outside of his suit. Steve is fucking everywhere, and Tony is too hot and shaking apart and god, there is going to be marks on his skin and an ache in his muscles that lets him know that Steve wanted him, wanted this, if only for the moment. Tony rocks his hips up, tightens around Steve and keens.]
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- and when he's done, he's still painfully hard, and Steve looks a little bewildered, because this has never happened to him before. He pulls out, panting, rests his forehead against Tony's chest for a moment. His cock aches for more, but he needs to catch his breath, remember how to speak English again.
And then without notice, he scoops Tony up from the floor, standing on legs that feel like they're about to collapse, manages to remember the lube, carries him to the bedroom and dumps him on the bed, flat on his stomach. Steve climbs onto the bed behind him, kneels between his legs, uses a hand to guide him up onto hands and knees.]
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Tony shakes as he comes down, slowly, and fuck he hasn't come that hard in years. He is blinking slowly trying to figure out why Steve looks so damned confused when the world spins and what.
The next thing Tony realizes, he is facedown on his bed with Steve pressed close behind him and shit, Steve is still hard and he doesn't know if that is a super solder thing or a wolf thing but Tony actually can't find it in him to care right now. He follows Steve's guiding, propping himself up on shaky limbs and lets his head hang a little as he tries to sort himself out.]
S-Steve....
[ His voice is ragged, catching on his tongue as he speaks, can't quite get his brain back on line the way he wants and it has been so long since he has been this lost to physical pleasure Tony isn't sure he minds. ]
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He leans forward over Tony, molds himself to the curve of his back, breath hot on the nape of his neck. The only sound is the harsh noise of his breath as he thrusts into him over and over, skin slapping against bare skin. ]
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When Steve presses close, Tony curses and falls foreward a bit, arms giving way until he is on his elbows and driving Steve in deeper and fuck--
It takes him a moment to realize that Steve's name is falling from his lips like a breathless prayer with each thrust; half begging half exalting.]
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He bites hard at the nape of Tony's neck as he comes, teeth digging deep into the skin, nearly ending up with another mouthful of Tony (not in a good way) but his jaws don't snap shut, they just close on his neck as he pumps into Tony relentlessly.
When he's finally spent, his cock blessedly soft, he pulls out and just kind of topples over next to Tony, his lips still stained with Tony's blood.
God, his life is weird. ]
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Shit, Steve.
[ His name is almost a whimper there when Tony feels teeth on his neck (has flashes of the night before, of wolves and the moon and what the fuck) before Steve is coming and collapsing next to him, leaving him shaking and breathless on the bed and wondering what the fuck happened. Turning his towards Steve, Tony blinks a few times before dragging a shaking thumb across Steve's lips, smearing the blood (his blood) against Steve's skin.]
...you sure you're not a vampire? Or do I just taste good?
[ The words are slurred together, no anger in them, just tired curiosity before Tony inches a bit closer and tangles himself with Steve.]
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[ Steve's speech is equally slurred, and it takes him a moment to figure out how to form words. He nestles his head against Tony's shoulder, drapes arms and legs over him. ]
Not a vampire. Werewolf. Don't drink blood.
[ He nuzzles the smooth skin on the side of Tony's neck for a moment, almost but not quite kissing it. ] That's never happened before. Dunno what it is. Sorry.
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