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“How’s the hotel?” Tony asks from outside of the frame of the video call window. “The bed any good?”
Steve shuffles on the chair as he watches Tony come back into view, unbuttoning his shirt. “Eh. It’s Latvia. The fact that there is a bed is a plus.”
Tony huffs a laugh. “I guess. How are the negotiations going?” he asks, shrugging out of his shirt, letting it fall on the floor. “More importantly—” he fiddles with his pants before pulling them down “—how many more days are you stuck in there?”
“Not sure.” Steve follows his movements, undressing in front of Steve, so casually, as if he doesn’t know what the sight is doing to Steve. “Uh—three? four maybe?”
Tony sighs. “four more days? It’s already been a week, Steve,” he says, tilting his head, pouting.
“Ah, baby, I miss you too,” Steve says, “it’ll be over before—” he tries to find the next word, but his thoughts get all jumbled up as Tony takes a step back, as if he’s making sure he’s fully in Steve’s view before he pulls down his boxer briefs. “What the—Tony? What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m undressing. It’s just too hot under my skin, you know, there is this energy searing through. I’ve been so jittery without you, Steve, I need—” he says, palming his cock “—my hole felt so empty without you.”
Heat curls in Steve’s gut like hot lava and spills into his veins. Tony’s low moans as he palms himself to full-erection go straight to Steve’s dick. “I’m sorry babe,” he says, out of breath, opening his zipper to free himself, hot with arousal, not even surprised to find his dick standing at full attention. “Do you wanna jerk off now? You can use the new dildo we got last month and I’ll talk you through opening youself up and fucking yourself.”
Tony smiles, stroking himself lazily. “What if I tell you I’m already open?”
Steve’s breath hitches as his hand wraps around his cock. “You—” he says, trying to keep calm as he strokes himself too. “You are?”
Tony nods before he turns around, and the sight of his round, perfect ass makes Steve’s mouth water. “Can you see like this?” he asks as he goes on all fours on the bed, lowering his chest and raising his ass, and fuck, oh, fuck, it’s just like porn, but a hundred times better, because the man presenting his plugged up ass in the video is Tony Fucking Stark. “Can’t see you, so I need words, Steve.”
“Oh, sorry, Tony, yes,” he chokes out, pressing the base of his cock to regain a bit of composure, to stop himself from coming right then and there and ruining whatever Tony has planned so beautifully.
“Good. So tell me, Steve, what am I doing now?”
“You’re—” Steve swallows, eyes glued to Tony’s fingers. “You’re playing with the plug.”
“Yes,” Tony says, breathy as he pulls the plug out slowly and pushes it back in. “It’s the big one, Steve, I’ve been wearing it all day.” He pulls the plug out, this time almost all the way, before pushing it back in.
It is their biggest plug. Steve whimpers at the thought, his hand back on his cock, stroking long and hard. “How did you—how—”
“How did I, ah, how did I get it in?” Tony finishes Steve’s thought, fucking himself with the plug.
Steve’s hand speeds up on his own dick, smearing the pre-come all over the head, pulling a bit, squeezing here and there. “Yeah, babe, how did you do it all by yourself?”
“Oh, this feels good,” Tony says, vibrating the plug with his hand. “You wanna know how it’s gotten into my hole?”
“Yes, babe, yes,” he says mindlessly, hand moving up and down over his length. “Tell me what you did to that sloppy hole, how did you make it loose enough for that monster thing?”
Tony plays with the plug a few more times before rising up to sit back on his heels. He then turns to Steve, making a show of how he can feel the plug in his ass as he sits on the sheets. “I’m not sure.” He tilts his head, scratching his beard. “What if you don't like it?”
Steve’s heart hammers in his chest, the arousal coursing through his body making his blood roar in his ears. “What did you do, Tony? What did you—fuck—what did you do?”
“Now, you have to promise that you won’t get mad, alright?” Tony says, stretching the words a little like he’s a naughty kid trying to get out of trouble.
Thoughts swirl in Steve’s head, a rush of emotions slamming through him like a ton of bricks. No, he thinks miserably, but his dick is onboard with every single thought, every single scenario that plays in his mind. He’s hard as a rock, throbbing painfully against his fist. “Tell me, Tony,” he says, strained. “I won’t—” he tries but decides against a promise he knows he won’t be able to keep. “I’ll try.”
“I—” Tony says, gripping his cock, and rubbing his plugged hole on the sheets. “I had company last night.” He throws his head back, cheeks rosy, eyes glossy with arousal. “I really, ah, fuck, I really needed it, Steve, my hole—”
“Your slutty hole was too empty, right?” someone says with Steve’s voice. Someone touches Steve with his own hand, someone is imagining Tony’s hole fluttering around a giant dick, right inside Steve’s head.
“Steve,” Tony moans, leaning back against the pillows. “It was so, so empty—” he whimpers as he starts playing with the plug again. “I needed it so bad.”
“Who?” Steve asks, voice shaking. “Who was it?”
“Oh, ah,” Tony shudders, back to fucking himself with the plug. “I can’t tell you.”
The images in Steve’s head shape up to more clarity. It’s all hot sensation and confusing warmth; he is angry enough to kill the bastard and so fucking turned-on that he might let the guy fuck Tony right in front of him. “Tell me,” he growls, his strokes along his dick continuing as if on their accord. “Who fucked you?”
“No, Steve, please,” Tony whines, smoothing a hand over his chest. “I promised.” He pinches a nipple, hard, and Steve can almost feel it, as if Tony’s pinching him instead.
“How was he?” Steve says instinctively, surprising the hell out of himself; even Tony stops everything he’s doing and stares at Steve for a moment. There is something primal and hungry and so fucking hot about it, how he feels feral with the idea of someone having laid their hand on Tony. “What—what did he do to you?”
Tony doesn’t move at all for a few more seconds, frozen in place. Steve’s heart feels funny about it, stuck between the desire to wrap his boyfriend in his arms, to tell him that everything is okay; and the impulse to grab those toned shoulders and shake them like hell.
“Go on,” he says, “don’t pretend you’re suddenly shy, you little slut.”
Tony’s eyes shut, shuddering, taking Steve’s words like a physical blow. But he gets back to it, rubbing his nipples, pulling them, rolling them between his fingers, fucking himself relentlessly with the plug. “He was—he—he had blue eyes. Dark floppy hair and cold blue eyes, and—ah, ah, he was so fucking strong. His hand—inside—it felt—ah, so different.” He looks up for a beat, keeping Steve’s gaze, and God, oh, God, he looks so perfectly debauched that Steve can’t help but need more. He spits into his palm, squeezing his cock harder and harder at each pass. “Steve—” Tony whines, his grip tight around the base of the plug, and Steve knows that all they’re both thinking about is the quality of another man’s fingers inside Tony’s ass. “I didn’t wanna do it, I promise, but I—but I—”
Steve squeezes his balls and strokes himself impossibly hard. There is a volcano running through his veins, a blend of blinding fury and blazing lust, and he can’t stop thinking about this man towering over the love of Steve’s life, his strong fingers disappearing inside Tony’s body, making him tremble with want, making him loose and ready to be fucked. “But you are a helpless little bitch, aren’t you? You’re a—fuck—you’re a—”
“I needed it, Steve, please, my body—my hole—oh, fuck, Steve, I need it in me—”
“If I knew you were that cock-hungry,” Steve says, breathless, mindless, “if I’d known what a cockslut you are, I wouldn’t have left you on your own like this.” The words come out as if they’re pouring out of a well Steve did not know existed inside. “I would have locked up your dick,” he says, searching Tony’s eyes that snap open again, watching Steve with fervor as he wraps both hands around his dick, as if protecting it from what Steve is talking about. “Would that make you think twice? Would that make you remember who you belong to?”
“Steve, please, you—” Tony is jerking himself off fast, his body fully flushed, and Steve can tell from the way he flicks his wrist to jerk the plug, that he is hitting it right on his prostate. “You can’t do that to me, Steve, I need to get off, I will—I had to—”
“Yeah? Maybe I’d put you in a crate, like a bitch in heat, and take you along when I go away on missions?”
Tony’s whole body trembles at that, and so does Steve’s. What on earth is happening to him? He mauls the idea over and over in his hazy brain, interchanging the image of Tony, in all his naked glory, dick locked in Steve’s cage, hunched in a crate Steve’s been cruel enough to make too small, with the image of this other man, touching what’s Steve’s, taking pleasure in what only belongs to him, making Tony writhe and squirm under his weight, shout his name instead of Steve’s—
Fuck. Steve’s gonna explode from within.
“How did he do it?” Steve asks, voice too rough, unfamiliar to his own ears. “How—how did he take you?”
“He—just like—” Tony tries, incoherent with the pleasure of his own touch, but clearly pleased with how he’s unraveling Steve to the core. “Just like this, Steve, right here on our bed, he—he made me look at him while he fucked me raw—and it hurt, it fucking hurt, he fucked me so hard that I—that I—”
No.
God, please, make him not say it, Stave thinks, half-heartedly. His cock is throbbing in his palm, now coated with pre-come, a vein pulsing hot across his length. If he doesn’t want Tony to say what Steve thinks he’s about to say, why is he imagining it so vividly? Why is it making the blood boil in Steve’s veins? “He fucked you so hard that you what? What, Tony, what, tell me—fuck, ah—”
“Steve,” Tony whimpers, “he was so rough. Held me down, holding my wrists above my head, his weight—oh, Steve—it was so good, that I came—I came—he didn’t touch my cock—I—”
“Fuuuck,” someone growls, but the sound comes out of Steve’s throat. “You filthy, pathetic—my God—” is he crying? Why is he crying? And if he’s this devastated, why is he floating with the raw pleasure that’s singing alive in every nerve in his body? “You can’t come untouched, Tony, you—no—”
Who is the filthy pathetic bitch, Steve can’t really tell. Tony, who’s not even looking at Steve, lost in the memories of someone who’s not Steve, or Steve who’s sobbing like a broken thing and yet can’t stop touching himself?
“Did he—” Steve tries miserably, “did he come—did he—”
“Steve—ah, ah, Steve—” Tony says, “he came inside—he didn’t even ask if he could—fuck, he just—emptied—oh fuck.” He pushes the plug in with force. “I was coming and clenching around his giant dick and he—he just came so much that I still—still feel it in my belly, it was so much—” with that he pulls the plug out, all the way—
No.
No, no that can’t be right.
Tony can’t have gone that far, the slimy white thing oozing out of his hole cannot be another man’s come.
Steve’s face is wet with tears. He can’t breathe. He’s hot all over, inside and out, his body on fire, his soul burning like lava.
And despite everything, he’s feeling right on the edge, like he needs one last push to fall head first into oblivion, and God, oh God, how he wants to tumble over this edge.
“He—he—” Tony says, one hand coming up from his groin to wrap around his neck. “He choked me as he came—he pulled out—pulled—out, and shoved the plug in—oh, Steve, it went in, so fucking easy, I was so loose, and then—he choked me, his hand, his metal hand, was so cold and unyielding and—”
Steve doesn’t hear anything else. The vague image of the man who’s spent the night with Tony evaporates into thin air and shifts back into place, every word, every description coming back to Steve, the images of Tony getting fucked within an inch of his life are now complete.
“Bucky? You slept with Bucky?”
And that’s all it takes, like Bucky’s name breaks the dam, like the mind-blowing idea of him fucking Tony is the key to something he didn’t know he’d kept locked inside. He is coming, shaking, crying out words he himself cannot understand, an explosion of emotions and sensations that spills all through and takes over—and then everything goes white.
***
He comes back to himself in Tony’s arms.
He’s curled into Tony’s chest, feet tangled, one arm flung over Tony’s body to keep him close. He’s on the bed, clean, warm, and in Tony’s arms, strangely relieved like he’s woken up from a nightmare, only to find out that it was all a dream.
“There you are, beautiful,” Tony says, pressing his lips to Steve’s forehead. “Took you a while to come back to me, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”
Steve kisses the dip of Tony’s chin, slowly. “I’m—I’m great. Like I’ve gone to battle and died, and somehow—I’m fully alive. I’m—relieved, just so happy.”
“Oh, that’s deep, ain’t it?” Tony chuckles, fingers rubbing soothingly over Steve’s back. “And the scene? You were out cold when I wrapped myself in a robe and came down to your floor, so I’m guessing it was one hell of an orgasm?”
“Yeah,” Steve says, stretching tentatively, feeling the effects of the scene in his body. “Yeah, it was—it was tens of times better than I thought. It was devastating, and shattering, and so fucking hot. I don’t wanna say the best because—”
“—because you don’t like ranking your orgasms, yes, babe, I know—”
“—exactly, so, it was something else.” He pulls back enough that he can look into Tony’s eyes. He is so lucky, if it’s only for the mesmerizing quality of Tony’s eyes; so innocent and loving, like Steve can see the sparkle in them right now, while being such a fucking evil mastermind. “You’re the worst. You did so many things to me that I had no idea were coming, and you broke me into pieces I didn’t know existed. The come lube dripping out of your ass, and—Bucky? The. Worst.”
“It all worked perfectly, my boy, it all worked out perfectly.” Tony smiles and, there, the devilish glint sparkles in his eyes. “After all this time, it’s so cute that you think you can go into a scene, knowing fully what’s coming for you.”
Tony’s tone is warm, playful, but Steve’s breath hitches nonetheless. It’s never not a turn-on, Tony calling him my boy, casually pointing out that he knows Steve well enough to wreck him, wreck him only with his words.
“Ah, sweetheart,” Tony says, running the tip of his finger over Steve’s cheeks. “You’re so adorable, blushing like this.” He kisses the bridge of Steve’s nose. “The metal arm mention really did it for you, didn’t it? The way your whole body convulsed when you shouted Bucky’s name, the sight of you, oh God—tipped me right off the edge. It was glorious to watch—actually, you might have given me some ideas.”
“Ideas?” Steve feels the warmth spread from his cheeks, down his neck, his chest, heat pulling in his stomach, stirring his dick. “What ideas?”
Tony smacks his lips, reaching up to card his fingers through Steve’s hair. “I mean, if talking about something you know has not happened gets you so unraveled—makes me wonder what you’d do if you saw the real thing happen?”
Steve considers him: the lop-sided smile, the narrow eyes—his heart hammers in his chest. “Real thing? As in, uh, Bucky and, uh, you—and I get to—get to—watch? You’d, oh God, you’d do that for me?”
Tony cups his jaw and kisses him on the mouth. Steve parts his lips to let him in, reveling in the familiar feeling that never fails to make him ache down low. “You know my love,” Tony says against his lips before pulling his lower lip between his teeth to bite gently. “I’d do anything for you.”