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It was late when Tony came trudging in, soaking wet from the evening's rain. He'd only walked from the car to the house and Happy had been kind enough to offer him his own umbrella as he was exiting the vehicle but Tony had refused. He wouldn't say it out loud, but sometimes he needed a little rain on his skin after a long day in the office. It was a little reminder he was actually a living breathing thing as appose to another piece of machinery sitting upright in one of the offices at the Stark Industries Headquarters.
Tony hated doing paperwork, which was part of the reason he was even strolling in a little past one AM. He'd been avoiding it for literally weeks. But any time he invented something new there was a a few more things that had to be signed, and Tony had been inventing a lot.
It seemed the kinkier things got in the bedroom with Steve, the clearer his head was, the more inventions he seemed to pop out. They would come to him between sessions, in the early hours of the morning they spent bathing in the warmth of each other's arms, in the afternoons they started early after finishing late the day before. Just idea after idea. Tony was beginning to believe that Steve was better for the company than he, himself, had been in the past nonconsecutive five years.
But that just meant more paperwork.
Tony told himself he wouldn't mind—and while he was going through it, he didn't—but it was still a pain in the ass. He was a hands on sort of guy, but only when it came to mechanics, not so much the business of it—or rather, the part where his signature was required.
When the light opened the room up to reveal a very pissed looking Steve, Tony almost literally shit himself. Almost literally meaning literally metaphorically.
“I forgot,” he stated simply, stomach curling in a confusing knot of fear and anticipation.
“You forgot,” Steve nodded, crossing his legs and lacing his fingers together atop his knee. “And I had something special planned for us tonight...” he murmured, sounding a bit let down, as his eyes settled on the hard curve of his own knuckle.
“...So we're not doing what you planned tonight?” Tony asked, hesitantly, hooking his pointer finger under his tie and beginning to loosen it, a cold sweat pealing across his forehead.
“We're not doing what I planned tonight,” Steve echoed, pushing himself up onto his feet in a casual manner.
“Then what are we doing?” Tony asked, pulling off his blazer and draping it over his arm.
“Go upstairs and put on what's in the bag.”
“...And we're not doing what you planned?”
Steve offered no words in response, just a stern look lined with something willing Tony silent as he climbed the stairs. He must have really pissed Steve off if he'd completely changed their plans around—Steve didn't have nearly the same amount of things to do as Tony did, he still had a company to keep an eye on, of course, even if he was dabbling in a little superhero-ing on the side, but he still had a lot to do. He was a busy man himself.
The fact that they even found time to fuck like animals for hours on end was pure luck as far as Tony was concerned. Their schedules really shouldn't have had next to no conflicts with how much either of them tended to do, but for some reason—probably Pepper—they always seemed to slide right into each other's free time.
Peering into the bag, he realized he really was in trouble. When he and Steve had started getting serious about the kinkier half of their sex life, they'd sat down and written up three lists. One with things they wanted to try, another with things they never wanted to try, and the final with things that irked them, but appealed to the other. It was agreed that on certain specific nights one could just spring the other with an option from said list, and it looked like tonight it was Steve's turn. Sighing, Tony began undoing the buttons of his shirt.
They were made of nice lace, Tony noted, fingering at the soft material as he pulled it over his thighs, and colored with a deep rouge. Tony peaked into the bag again and pealed the red tissue paper out of his line of sight; there was more. A thin, laced, garter belt sat atop a maroon pair of thigh-high’s. It was times like these Tony wished he could have convinced Steve he needed a safeword, but Steve had insisted that they trust each other enough to recognize the other's limit, and it'd seemed satisfactory at the time...but now that he was eyeing the embroidered lingerie he wished he could just yell 'No!' at the man.
Giving in to some submissive half of his brain, Tony reached into the bag and pulled out the garter belt. He really shouldn't fight it...if Steve thought he could handle it, he could. Maybe he'd like it...maybe Steve wouldn't be as cruel as Tony expected him to be. There was really no way to ever know for sure.
“Put it on slow, I want to watch you,” Steve ordered from the doorway, voice kind and forgiving.
“Yes, sir.”
Lifting his hand to shake a finger at Tony, Steve chided, “Ah-ah! Your talking privileges have been revoked.” So Tony just nodded at him, tugging the belt over the curve of his behind in a slow graceful movement. Steve hummed quietly from the other side of the room in approval, which was helpful because Tony knew he wasn't allowed to look over his shoulder and watch the bigger man take him in from shoulder to shoulder. It wasn't about Tony at all tonight, and if he was lucky enough to get hand laid on him at all in the next few hours it would surprise him out of his wits.
“The stockings now. Right leg first.”
Tony nodded, retrieving a stocking from the bag. Steve already knew how much Tony hated this. It wasn't so much the objectification he didn't like—Steve was still Steve and Tony was still Tony; meaning Tony loved being objectified especially by Steve, and Steve, of course loved all of Tony, just wanted to admire his body right now—it just...it was belittling when it came down to it. That was the ultimate punishment. It was degrading for him to walk around in these clothes, servicing Steve whenever he saw fit—and it gnawed at him deep in the pit of his stomach—but he loved it. That was the sick part.
It didn't matter how low Steve made him feel Tony knew he'd still always get that praise, love and attention afterward. All the while his lover was savoring every grimace and shutter.
I'll please you, Tony thought, wishing he'd been able to voice it.
“Now turn around and kneel,” Steve instructed, pulling his belt loose.