Chapter Text
It started on the helicarrier. Everything special about you came out of a bottle.
Steve didn't miss a beat then. The bigger man, the all-American hero, striking back with a confident challenge. Put on the suit. Let's go a few rounds.
Tony could tell, though. Could tell he'd hurt Steve, deep and ragged where it counted, where the serum couldn't reach. And he knew, too, that Steve wanted to hurt him back.
Let's go a few rounds.
He doesn't know why or how it first arose, that desire to find the weak points in the legendary Captain America's armor, to chip away at them, little by little, until Steve crumbles to shards, red, white, blue, and quivering all over. To make Steve his and his alone.
Tony can have any man or any woman he wants, can have as many as he wants in any combination imaginable, but other people...they're boring. Fawning, eager, falling all over themselves to please him, or maybe just to grab a fistful of his fortune. Other people don't have the divine glow that Steve Rogers has. No flawless manners, no incorruptible morals, no loose threads to pull, and pull, and pull, until they unravel completely and sob and beg to be held, and then turn around and put a fist in Tony's face.