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amelioraate
[ 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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Fine fine, I like them with skin on anyways.
[ But he will take that strawberry thanks.]
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[ Steve hums lightly when Tony's lips brush against his fingers as he eats the strawberry. He's finding that he actually kind of likes doing this, although he'll never ever admit it out loud to Tony. The man doesn't need to be hand-fed every meal. ]
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[ Why are you asking him questions like this right now, Steve. W H Y. Just... let him bask in your attention right now okay, let him hum around the strawberry, eyes closing as he leans back into Steve's warmth. He should find it weird, how calming it is to be curled around Steve like this, but it just feels good.]
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(God, he's really spent way too much time around Tony.)
It's easier to feed him finger food than it is to try to maneuver things like eggs into his mouth, so Steve just keeps picking out pieces of fruit (although he avoids all the banana slices) and feeding them to Tony, idly stroking his hair with the other hand. ]
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He hums and continues to take whatever Steve gives him, before he make a noise that he hopes indicates he is done, eyes still closed, before pressing into Steve's skin. When he speaks, his words are mumbled.]
Gonna have t'shower again...
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(He only eats with one hand, though, keeping the other in Tony's hair.) ]
You aren't that dirty. It's not like I poured maple syrup all over you and then licked it off.
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[ He blinks his open to smirk up at Steve, languid and pleased and way too comfortable. Not that Tony hasn't already tried shit like that in his younger days, he thinks he remembers something with body shots and sugar but... totally doesn't count. That and... well, it is a whole new ball game with Steve in Tony's mind.
He doesn't mention it though, just hums a little more and slings a leg over one of Steve.]
This should be uncomfortable, why am I not uncomfortable. Steve, why are you comfy. It's unfair.
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(Although if he got it on Tony, he would definitely be willing to lick it off.) ]
I'm...sorry for being comfortable? [ He sounds a little confused. Nobody's ever really treated him as living furniture after sex before. ]
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And Tony is not going to touch that weirdly possessive thought at all right now.
Nope.]
You should be. It's ridiculous. My bed is custom made and I'd rather lay on you...
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[ It is pretty goddamn big. Steve's noticed that - and appreciated the fact, since he likes big beds. Look, he's a big guy, and having space to sprawl out is a novelty. ]
Also, these pancakes are fantastic.
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[ There is a teasing smile from Tony. There might be a few tricks built into the bed, maybe. Tony was well known for his bedroom endeavours after all, he needed a bed that could handle a great deal. But he doesn't elaborate and, instead, raises an eyebrow.
Then opens his mouth a little.]
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Am I going to have to keep feeding you till I find out?
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Fuck, something about Steve was kind of fucking with him.]
Mmmm, probably not. But I'm not complaining.
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Of course you aren't complaining, I'm the one doing all the work.
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Mmm, I wouldn't say that. But really, you don't have to. I mean, if it's that difficult and all.
[ So sometimes Tony didn't fight fair, what of it.]
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[ Steve shrugs and goes back to eating. Sorry, Tony, your mind games don't work on him.
Sometimes.]no subject
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Yeah, your life's real hard, Tony. That's why you've got a super-soldier hand-feeding you in your penthouse.
[ He's being sarcastic, but in a gentle, teasing sort of way. ]
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Yeah well I deserve it after you wearing me out with so much fantastic super soldier sex okay. Not all of us have that kind of refractory period.
[ But it's pretty fucking obvious he is not even a little bit upset about it.]
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[ He gives Tony a teasing smirk. The man can't be too jealous, not when he gets to benefit from it. ]
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[ He stops himself there, snaps his mouth shut and shakes his head before curling back up a little.] Nah, can't really say it would have served me well, I just would have tripled the number of people I slept with and that-- probably isn't a good thing.
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No. It isn't.
[ But then he distracts himself by polishing off the last of the bacon. ] You're going to make me fat if I just eat and loll around in bed all the time, you know. No matter how much sex we have.
[ Not that he can get fat. It's a lame attempt at a joke. ]
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Uh huh, first off, we totally can have enough sex to burn those calories off and, second, pretty sure your metabolism takes care of the rest.