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It started out as a joke.
It was only to be expected, really, because this entire thing between Steve and Tony had started out as a joke. When Steve had spent years dreaming about how someday, somehow, Tony might love him back, he'd always imagined something... big. They already lived their lives on such a grand scale. Steve pictured, maybe, love confessions on the battlefield. Something dramatic and emotional. Something that would make a good story.
Instead, here he was, back on the team like a needle settling into a groove; he hadn't realized how much he'd missed being Captain America until he'd picked up the shield again. He was happy to be back on a team with Tony, sure; he always was. And, sure, he loved him, but it wasn't like he was ever going to say anything about it. And then one day, he'd gotten off the phone with the president, a particularly blistering call, and Tony laughed and said maybe you should establish a safeword.
It had been a joke, but it had nonetheless been a one-two punch: desire, realization. He wanted this. And, the way Tony had said it... this was a thing Tony knew about. Maybe this was a thing he could have. He was aware of popular culture -- whips, chains, leather. Even if he'd been just as innocent as everyone thought Captain America was, it would have been hard not to know that it was... out there. But he'd never thought about it as something he could do. Until now, when Tony was still laughing joyfully at his own joke, and Steve looked at him and felt like Tony had opened a door to a new world and Steve wanted to throw himself through and find out what wonders were on the other side.
So when they had had a disastrous meeting with Magneto, and Steve's immediate retort, as soon as they were alone was what was that you were saying about a safeword? -- well, he was trying, but Tony clearly thought he was joking. Hilarious, Tony said.
"You don't have a safeword?" Steve asked.
Tony was dead silent for a good five seconds, and Steve started to wonder if he'd made a mistake. He'd thought Tony could be interested -- honestly, he'd always sort of thought that -- but what if he'd been wrong?
Finally, Tony tipped the faceplate back. His face was pale, astonished, but the beginnings of a smile nudged at the corners of his mouth, like he wanted it to mean the same thing Steve meant. "Are-- are you fucking with me?" Then his eyes widened even more. "Jesus Christ. You're not fucking with me."
Steve swallowed hard and resisted the urge to glance away. "I'm serious. I have to admit, I'm flying blind here, but I-- I'm serious."
There was another pause. Steve wondered if Tony could hear his terrified heartbeat.
But then Tony smiled, slow and soft.
"I can help you out with that," Tony said, and there was a note in his voice that Steve had never heard before. "I think I have some idea of what you might like." He coughed, and then he added, very quietly, "Sir."
Steve had spent years in the Army, for God's sake; it shouldn't have affected him, having anybody call him sir. But the way Tony said it felt like leaping out of the Quinjet and feeling that dizzying rush of freedom and adrenaline, and then being safely caught up in Iron Man's arms. It was like being in command, but a thousand times more. It was Tony saying that he loved him enough, that he trusted him enough, to let him take charge like this.
Steve exhaled shakily. He couldn't quite catch a full breath. He didn't know what his face looked like. Nothing was making any sense. Somehow it felt like this was already the gentle, warm afterglow, the solid knowledge that Tony loved him, that Tony would give himself up to him.
"Oh, yeah." Tony's voice was low and smoky, confident, and his lips curved. "I know exactly what you like."
So here they were, two weeks later, and Steve was having the time of his life. He'd thought it might be hard being with Tony, after the SHRA, after the Worthy, after everything that had come between them. He'd never been with a man in anything beyond his fantasies. He'd never done this... kink thing. Hell, he'd never even dated another Avenger. But it was easy. It was all so easy. And it was so very good.
He and Tony were getting along like they never had before, not even in the old days. To be fair, it probably helped that the sex was amazing, dear God. Tony hadn't talked much about it, but he definitely knew where he was going with the whole D/s thing, which was good, because Steve didn't. Tony knew exactly what to do. And weirdly, that was one of the major attractions. It had been pretty easy to see that Tony wanted to be the one getting done to, as it were, and also that he wanted to call the shots. Steve was getting the idea that maybe this wasn't the way most people did it, but it was working for him. It really was. Tony was calling the shots, but Steve was the one taking them. It was teamwork. He knew how to do that. It was just teamwork in bed.
And Steve liked taking care of people. That wasn't a secret to anyone, and most of the time it wasn't a sex thing. He just... liked it. He'd ended up Avengers field leader fairly often because he could make a tactical call, sure, but Steve could name a dozen people who could make the same calls he could. It wasn't unique, in their line of work. But being team chair was something else entirely. He'd ended up team chair more often than not because on some level he actually enjoyed the weekly meetings and midnight grocery runs and the personalized training plans. He liked making people into the very best that they could be. He liked making sure everyone, all his people, his team, had everything they needed. It made him... content. More than content, really. It pleased him, deep down, on some elemental level.
It turned out the same impulse could also get him an incredible sex life. Tony would look at him, eyes half-lidded, with that sultry smile, and say you could tie me to the bed and fuck me. Or I could just kneel there with your cock in my mouth while you work on paperwork. Or even something as simple as you could kiss me a lot. It wasn't about what it was, so much, although Steve couldn't deny that some things did it for him more than others. It was that every time Tony said something like that, it was like Tony had handed him a list that said here is exactly what you can do to make me happy, and he could just... do that, and then Tony, Tony who'd spent so much of his life being sad -- Tony would be happy. Because of him. The rush of accomplishment was profoundly satisfying. Satisfaction wasn't quite the right word for it. Steve was still having trouble coming up with words for it. It was like nothing he'd ever felt.
So, all in all, this had definitely been one of his better ideas.
When Steve got up to the common area of the Tower that evening, it was late enough that Tony was the only one there, burning the midnight oil once again. Steve couldn't fault him; after all, he was awake too. Tony was stretched out on the couch, laptop resting on his stomach, clearly engrossed in one of his ideas. He must have been engrossed, because he hadn't even looked up to say hi. Tony got like this sometimes. Steve knew better than to take it personally.
As Steve came a little closer, he grimaced, because he could see what else Tony was doing -- or rather, what he hadn't done. There was an entirely untouched ham and Swiss sandwich on a plate over on the counter by the kitchen area. Tony had done what he often did, which was intend to eat something, get a burst of inspiration, and then wander off without eating whatever it was. Oh, he ate fine if he wasn't distracted -- but he was distracted an awful lot.
"You should eat something," Steve told him. He realized after he said it that he hadn't quite meant it to sound like he was nagging. He was just concerned.
Tony glanced up, smiled, and made a cheerful noise of derision. "Why don't you come over here and make me?"
The words struck Steve in a way they hadn't been meant to, a sucker punch of blinding, overwhelming erotic force, and for a second he couldn't quite breathe with how much he wanted it. It wasn't quite sex, exactly, and he didn't really want to make Tony eat, but it was-- he wanted-- he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted. The idea hovered somewhere just past Steve's conscious understanding, nebulous, all bound up in Tony's dare. But whatever it was, he knew that Tony could figure out how they could get it.
He was just standing there, stupidly; he couldn't even figure out how to move, how to get through all this shining new desire enough to do something, anything. But that was okay, because Tony was still looking at him, and Tony knew, so it was going to be okay. Better than okay.
Tony was studying him with a delighted grin on his face, like getting to see how much Steve wanted something from him was the best present anyone could ever have given him. "Oh, boy," Tony breathed. His eyes were alight. "You liked that idea, huh? Brand-new kink?"
It was daring to talk about this here, in the common area, when anyone could walk in, but at the same time it seemed exactly right to be here, alone, with the night skies black beyond the windows. The world always seemed different at night, and now it felt like the world was only the two of them.
Steve nodded jerkily. He still couldn't come up with words for it. This hadn't been a problem for them so far, because as it turned out Tony knew all the words. "I, uh," Steve said, unsteadily. "I'm not quite sure how this one goes. I could use some help working it out."
"Okay." Tony sat up, set the laptop on the coffee table, clapped his hands and refocused; Steve experienced the always-heady sensation of having every last iota of Tony's attention on him. "Couple of ideas." Tony was still smiling bright, entranced by the thought of-- of-- whatever it was they were going to figure out together. "You want to watch me eat, maybe? Some kind of oral fixation?"
Steve couldn't say he was opposed, exactly, to the idea of watching Tony do anything with his mouth -- because, dear God, Tony's mouth -- but that wasn't where this desire had come from. That would just have been lust. This lived somewhere else within him, nestled next to his heart. He shook his head.
Tony pursed his lips. "Okay. Next idea. I didn't think this was up your alley, but I could be wrong -- is it because you want to force me to do it?"
No. That was wrong, all wrong, and the images that filled Steve's mind were terrifying, Tony hating it and Steve overpowering him, making him do it anyway. He shook his head violently, like he could ward it off. "God, no!"
"Shh," Tony said, quick and soothing. His hands went up -- or rather, out flat, Tony's version of up after a decade of life with palm repulsors. "It's okay, it's okay. It was just a thought. Nothing wrong with it if that's what you'd wanted, but you don't, and that's okay, too." His mouth pulled to one side. "But those were my top two guesses. Let me think for a sec."
He watched Tony think. He liked watching Tony think. He liked watching Tony do basically anything, but watching Tony think was its own kind of joy. Tony ran his fingers through his hair the way he always did, a quirk that he never showed to the cameras, and Steve loved that Tony let him see him like this. He could practically see Tony considering and discarding ideas, sorting through them at lightning speed.
"I," Tony said, and then he frowned. "Hmm. No. Hmm, that's-- no." He sighed.
And then Tony started to laugh. He looked up at Steve, across the room, his eyes sparkling, and he was the most beautiful person Steve had seen in his whole life, and he was Steve's.
"Tony?"
"I was overthinking it," Tony said, with another smile. "I know just what you want. You want to take care of me. You want to make sure I have what I need. You want to know that someone you love isn't going hungry. And--" he drew out the word, a magician pulling away a cloth with a flourish-- "I think you'd feel better if you could come over here and feed me, one bite at a time, with your own hands." He smiled again, more softly. "How about that?"
A rush of heat ran through him, and Steve wobbled where he stood. That was it, yes. That was exactly it. He could picture it, as Tony said it, holding out a delicate morsel of food, knowing that he would be-- that he would be providing for Tony, his Tony. Treating Tony right.
"That's a thing?" Steve's voice was thready. "That's a thing we can do?"
"Handfeeding?" Tony nodded. Of course there was a word for it. "Absolutely a thing." His grin was eager. "We can do it right now if you want."
"I want to." Steve was lightheaded with wonder. "If you want to, that is."
Tony cleared his throat. "Tower, lock down the common area to my or Cap's signal."
Somewhere in the darkness, doors clicked. Steve guessed Tony didn't really want to move anywhere else right now either.
"Okay," Tony said. "Usually people have fancier food for this, but I'm not picky and I don't think you want to wait, so we're going to improvise. You should go cut up that sandwich on the counter into bite-sized pieces. If there's other food you want to add, go for it. As long as it's something you think you can reasonably feed me with your fingers. Soup's probably a no-go."
"Got it."
He found a knife in the drawer. He took off his gloves and got to work. Cutting the sandwich gave him time to collect his thoughts, as much as he could; he gave up on thinking. His world was a haze of contentment and they hadn't even really started. He found strawberries in the fridge, decided Tony would like those too, and quartered a few and set them on the plate.
When he picked up the plate and turned around, he nearly fumbled it, because Tony was dropping to his knees.
Tony had put a cushion down in the space between the sofa and the coffee table, and he knelt down easily, gracefully. He knelt like he was a ballet dancer assuming first position, like he'd trained and practiced to be able to reflexively hold himself just so, his feet together, sitting back on his heels and balancing his weight, keeping his head down, hands resting on his thighs.
Someone must have taught him this. He'd learned about all these things somehow. A different man might have been jealous of Tony's past lovers, but Steve could only be grateful, because all of it had brought Tony here, had brought Tony to him.
"Head up," Steve said, like they were sparring. He felt sort of like the way he did when they sparred, knowing that they were working together to create something wonderful between them. "I want to see you, remember?"
He'd had to ask Tony for that more than once; whoever had done this with Tony before had apparently enjoyed his submission in a different way than Steve did.
"Yes, sir," Tony said, and Steve shivered despite himself and felt heat well up within him.
Strictly speaking, Steve hadn't asked him for the title, but Tony appeared to have figured out that hearing it from him made Steve helplessly aroused, and Steve didn't see why he shouldn't let them both enjoy it. He glanced down; Tony, for his part, was about half-hard, and didn't seem to be urgently inclined to do anything about it. That was fine. They could both wait. Nothing had to happen tonight.
Steve sat down on the coffee table itself, just in front of Tony, and put the plate on Tony's closed laptop. "I can take it from here," he said, and he offered the first bite of sandwich between thumb and forefinger. "Open up?"
Tony's mouth was warm and wet. His lips closed gently around Steve's fingers as he delicately took the morsel from him. Steve hadn't really been thinking about Tony's mouth on him in any other context, but then Tony's tongue curved around the pad of his thumb and he couldn't really ignore it. Tony met his eyes, his gaze hot and pleading, and Steve knew he was thinking the same thing.
"I'll consider it," Steve told him. "Eat your sandwich first."
"That's right," Tony said, and he kissed Steve's fingertips. "You have to take care of me first, don't you? Wouldn't want to neglect me. I know you."
Something in Steve hummed with satisfaction, with satiation. This was exactly it.
"I want you to have everything I can possibly give you," Steve said, feeding him a second piece.
With the third piece, Steve reached out and started to pet Tony's hair. Tony's eyes fluttered shut and he moaned as Steve massaged his scalp.
"You're spoiling me rotten," Tony mumbled, and warm affection flared in Steve's chest like sunlight.
"Good," Steve said, firmly. "Someone should."
Tony slitted one eye open, drowsy, like he felt too good to move. Steve liked him like this. "Anyone in particular?"
"Mmm," Steve said, and he picked up another piece of the sandwich. "I've got some opinions."
Tony snorted and then licked Steve's bare hand, apparently for the hell of it. "You always do."
"Ideally me," Steve said, and he reminded himself that two weeks into a relationship was far too soon for ideally for the rest of my life. He scratched Tony's scalp again and fed him more of the sandwich. "Eat up."
The sandwich was gone in a few more bites. Steve had expected the strawberries to be much the same, but to his surprise, he found that they were much better, soft against his fingers, luxuriant. The juice ran over Steve's hand, and Tony licked him clean with a broad swipe of his tongue that definitely had Steve thinking other thoughts. Tony didn't seem to be, anymore; he was in his own blissful world.
Around about the third strawberry, Steve was right there with him. They'd stopped talking more than they had to; everything in Steve was an easy contentment, knowing that Tony was all right, that Tony was his, and he was so grateful that Tony was letting him do this, putting his welfare in his hands.. He picked up another piece, another, another. There was nothing but this.
Tony's tongue lingered on Steve's fingers like they were another part of the meal, licking him clean with every bite. His mouth was warm and plush, and Steve found after a few more minutes of this that he wasn't really thinking about sex, because that seemed too far into the future. There was only here and now, Tony with him, his hands and Tony's mouth, the two of them in this space where they could just be, and they didn't have to be anything more than that.
It was perfect.
He realized that the plate was empty, and he drew two fingers over Tony's jaw to get his attention; Tony just nuzzled Steve's palm, pliant and easy, the way he got sometimes when they played like this.
"Still hungry?"
Tony seemed to have to take a few seconds to remember what words meant, but then he shook his head. "I'm good," he murmured. He looked up at Steve, dreamy-eyed. "Little bit floaty. Really good."
"That's good," Steve said. "Glad to hear it."
Tony nuzzled him once more and then rolled his neck, stretching luxuriantly. "Can I interest you in indulging me with dessert?" He licked his lips and looked over at Steve's lap.
It took Steve longer than it should have to figure out what the proposition was. He shook his head. "No, I'm fine," he said. "I just-- I just want--"
He could figure this one out on his own. He stood up just enough to spin around and sit on the couch, and then he pulled Tony up and over on top of him. There. That was better. Tony was warm and relaxed, blissed-out, and Steve let himself relax as well as Tony melted into him. He'd done it right. He'd made Tony happy. Tony had everything he could possibly need.
"Mmf," Tony mumbled into Steve's chest. "I'm gonna fall asleep."
Steve rubbed the nape of Tony's neck, and Tony sighed happily. "Fall asleep, then." He raised his voice. "Tower, unlock common area."
The locks clicked again.
"We fall asleep like this," Tony mumbled again, and he was clearly already halfway there, "and you know the team's going to give us shit in the morning when they come down for breakfast."
"We are both fully dressed," Steve said, with as much dignity as he had in him, "and I love you, and I don't care what Clint is going to say about this."
"You say that now," Tony said. Like he thought there might be a question about it, and Steve knew exactly which part Tony was questioning.
"You know me," Steve said. "I still love you. I'm not going to change my mind."
The very best thing about Tony when he was like this, all soft and easy, was that he just... gave in and let Steve care about him. "Okay," Tony said, sleepy, smiling. "Love you too. Feed me breakfast tomorrow?"
Steve smiled. "Sure thing," he said, as Tony drifted off to sleep.