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draconicseraphim) wrote2012-05-24 05:16 pm
draconicseraphim) wrote2012-05-24 05:16 pm
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Title: Stark Reality
Canon: Avengers- movieverse
Characters: Stark Spangled Banner
Word Count: 1929
Summary: Tony and Steve have had enough with Bruce's self-imposed isolation... so they make him an offer which, coming from Tony, is more like a demand.
Warnings: shamelessly smutty
He was pretty sure Tony was the only one that really knew how they’d ended up like this. Hell, this might’ve been Tony’s plan from the beginning and, as the man’s hand skimmed down Bruce’s chest again, he had to correct that thought. This had definitely been Tony’s plan, at least since he’d walked into the lab that morning.
He’d protested, of course he had, but he’d learned weeks ago that Tony Stark was not accustomed to being turned down and, as such, turning him down was nigh impossible. Even if doing so was for his own good. For everyone’s own good.
But when teasing and poking and prodding had, today, been replaced by firm lips on his, a demanding tongue coaxing a gasp from him to plunge inside his mouth, he’d melted against the other man. How could he not? Most people were afraid to be in the same room as him, the same building even, and with good reason. But reason was something Tony regularly rewrote to suit his own purposes and so here he was, so delicately, vulnerably human but somehow confident enough, brave enough, to not only touch him but kiss him.
It wasn’t the rough, almost possessive, growl that countered his own soft, needy sounds or the pull of Tony’s hands fisted in his shirt that jump started his brain again. It was the gentle touch of broad fingers threading through his own unruly curls. That alone had almost caused a panic, blinking his eyes open, pulling reluctantly away from Tony, only to find Steve petting him. Steve who had become so close to Tony. Steve who was largely recognized as Tony’s boyfriend, though no one dared use the word until they did. Steve who was adjusting to life in the modern world as much as Bruce was. And here Bruce was accepting passionate kisses from the man that was helping them both. He barely got away from Tony’s greedy mouth, an apology already on his lips, an apology that Steve swallowed before he’d even found his voice.
So maybe Tony wasn’t the only one that had planned this.
After that everything had spiraled out of control. He knew he’d protested, knew he’d tried to tell them this was impossible, but of all the people he’d ever known Tony understood what he was better than anyone. It almost made him want to trust him when Tony told him to shut up and enjoy it. For a moment he had, briefly he’d surrendered,
But then Bruce was caught between the two of them, being tugged and teased and kissed and caressed until somehow they weren’t in the lab anymore, they were in Tony’s bedroom upstairs and Steve was unfastening the buttons of his shirt and it was all too much and too fast and too dangerous. The fact that he doesn’t remember being in the elevator, doesn’t remember feeling that ever-present anxiety that enclosed spaces always give him, that’s what has him stepping back, quickly, too quickly, so quickly that he’s falling the next second, having run into the foot of the bed. He lands splayed across the end of the bed, his hair disheveled his shirt unbuttoned and off his shoulders, brown eyes wide with realization and no small amount of fear.
He couldn’t do this, they couldn’t do this. Damn them both for being so deliciously, intoxicatingly real. For offering him something that was so much more than just this physical thing though there were no words between them about exactly what it was. It was the trust, the willingness for a connection that was far deeper than he deserved. It was knowing that if they continued he could easily destroy them both. Damn them for offering him things he could not have, didn’t deserve. And most of all damn him for almost taking it anyway.
Bruce splayed over the bed was apparently where they were wanting to take this because Tony was there, taking over where Steve had left off, undressing him. Clever hands making short work of the fastenings of his pants and that’s when Bruce’s brain finally caught up. He swatted Tony’s hands away, rolling off the bed as quickly as he could and staggering to his feet. He had to drop his hands down to catch his pants before they fall and it only served as a reminder, was too similar to a dozen other times when he’s woken to find himself clutching at the shredded remains of fabric around his waist.
Another strained protest as his gaze lifted from Tony who is still half kneeling on the bed over the space Bruce had just been occupying to Steve. Good, kind, practical Steve who saw the monster he was instead of Tony who flippantly ignored things that didn’t mesh with his version of reality. Steve who approached him slowly, like one would a wounded animal, slowly and carefully drawing the smaller man into those powerful arms and just holding him against his chest. Broad fingers carded through his hair again and it would be so easy to just let go, give in and take the comfort Steve offered.
But how could he?
Steve didn’t have to say anything, they all knew what the gesture was meant to be. Comfort, assurance, a silent promise that things would be okay when Bruce knew it was a lie. Then Tony was behind him, pulling his shirt away at last and murmuring things into his ear, calculations and precautions, a dozen permutations of various scenarios, all carefully planned for, all calculated in that brilliant mind of his and whispered hotly against Bruce’s skin like the most wicked kind of seduction. Not the seduction of his body, though they were certainly doing that. But of trust. Tony’s words, Steve’s unerring confidence in both of them though he had no idea what Tony was talking about, that kind of unflinching trust they had in each other and now asked him to have in them as well, in them and in himself.
It was hard, so hard. But he spent so much of his energy every day fighting himself that it was almost a relief to have something he could give in to, somewhere he could surrender and in another moment he was melting back against Tony’s chest, the solid circle of the arc reactor at his back simply a reminder that it wasn’t just pomp and swagger. Tony well and truly rewrote the laws of possibility, of reality, to suit his needs and right now Bruce Banner was his need. Bruce melting back against him, arching into his touch as Tony’s hands returned to their previous task of divesting him of his pants. Bruce moaning softly, almost as though he was afraid to let himself make too much noise against Steve’s lips.
He surrendered but not completely, not as completely as they had surely hoped. But when it had been so long he’d almost forgotten what it was like, had almost made himself forget, it was the most he could allow. Not until they knew, not until he could be sure. Part of him might have loved Tony for the obvious care and dedication he’d put into that litany of scientific debauchery that was murmured against Bruce’s skin again as Tony crawled over him onto the bed. But that didn’t mean he trusted him absolutely. Not when so much hung in the balance, not when Tony was the one most likely to end up hurt because of a single miscalculation.
So in the end it wasn’t that different from any other time Steve and Tony were together. The two worked in perfect concert, their motions easy and familiar, except that this time it was Bruce’s mouth that muffled Tony’s curses when Steve pushed inside of him. It was Bruce instead of the headboard that helped support Tony when his arms started to give out. And it wasn’t always Steve’s name on the other man’s lips.
It was hard for Bruce not to remind himself that even this was dangerous. Even this, just sitting amongst Tony’s pillows, leaning against the headboard and slowly, cautiously stroking his own erection while Tony held himself on hands and knees above him, desperately trying not to collapse against him from the force of Steve’s thrusts. This was dangerous and heady and something he wanted so badly to believe was okay, would be okay. That the next time he woke up naked it wouldn’t be to blood and pain and destruction but to this, to trusting friends and Steve’s heartbreakingly sincere smile and that playful, devious light in Tony’s eyes.
The thought was enough to have him arching slightly beneath Tony, gasping in a harsh breath, his fingers tightening around himself, his other hand clenching hard in the blankets. A pulse of fear ran through him with the way it made his heart race but then Tony was derailing that thought before it could continue, kissing him again, deep and demanding and a little sloppy with their combined breathlessness.
Tony groaned into that kiss as Steve’s hand slid from his hip down to stroke him and in return Tony’s hand shifted to join Bruce’s on himself. Somehow that moment became the most intensely pleasurable and terrifying thing he’d experienced in a long time, possibly in his whole life. He jerked his head to the side, breaking that kiss, gasping in desperate breaths to tell Tony no. Tell him not to touch him, that he wasn’t safe, that he shouldn’t have this, that he was sorry for ever agreeing to it. The normal reserve and caution Bruce put into every aspect of himself, especially his words, fell away as he teetered on the edge of his first orgasm in nearly a decade and he found himself squirming, trying to get away, begging Tony not to touch him, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t hurt him.
The hand curled around him stayed firm and steady though, or as much so as Tony could manage with his own orgasm fast approaching. He said something, half growled determined words against tanned skin, countering every semi-coherent sentence that fell from Bruce’s lips. Until, abruptly, Bruce fell silent, face scrunching up in something that was a heart wrenching blend of fear and pleasure as he spilled himself over Tony’s hand, breaths coming hard but so determinedly even, trying to think even through his orgasm, to not let go, to focus and count and try to force his heart rate down even before he’d finished.
It was the half second after when he realized that he was still lying beneath Tony, still him, still safe, still there with them that a shaky kind of half laugh escaped him and he was staring at them in awe. Wide brown eyes welled with something that was part joy and part relief that spilled down his cheeks even as he dove in to kiss Tony again, stealing the cry of Steve’s name from his lips when he came a moment later.
Tony collapsed on Bruce’s chest and he had no choice but to turn that grateful kiss to press into Tony’s hair instead, his mouth now occupied groaning curses against Bruce’s throat while Steve thrust into him again and again, finally reaching his climax while Bruce held his gaze over Tony’s back, murmuring two words that somehow simultaneously said nowhere near enough and everything that needed to be said.
“Thank you.”
Canon: Avengers- movieverse
Characters: Stark Spangled Banner
Word Count: 1929
Summary: Tony and Steve have had enough with Bruce's self-imposed isolation... so they make him an offer which, coming from Tony, is more like a demand.
Warnings: shamelessly smutty
He was pretty sure Tony was the only one that really knew how they’d ended up like this. Hell, this might’ve been Tony’s plan from the beginning and, as the man’s hand skimmed down Bruce’s chest again, he had to correct that thought. This had definitely been Tony’s plan, at least since he’d walked into the lab that morning.
He’d protested, of course he had, but he’d learned weeks ago that Tony Stark was not accustomed to being turned down and, as such, turning him down was nigh impossible. Even if doing so was for his own good. For everyone’s own good.
But when teasing and poking and prodding had, today, been replaced by firm lips on his, a demanding tongue coaxing a gasp from him to plunge inside his mouth, he’d melted against the other man. How could he not? Most people were afraid to be in the same room as him, the same building even, and with good reason. But reason was something Tony regularly rewrote to suit his own purposes and so here he was, so delicately, vulnerably human but somehow confident enough, brave enough, to not only touch him but kiss him.
It wasn’t the rough, almost possessive, growl that countered his own soft, needy sounds or the pull of Tony’s hands fisted in his shirt that jump started his brain again. It was the gentle touch of broad fingers threading through his own unruly curls. That alone had almost caused a panic, blinking his eyes open, pulling reluctantly away from Tony, only to find Steve petting him. Steve who had become so close to Tony. Steve who was largely recognized as Tony’s boyfriend, though no one dared use the word until they did. Steve who was adjusting to life in the modern world as much as Bruce was. And here Bruce was accepting passionate kisses from the man that was helping them both. He barely got away from Tony’s greedy mouth, an apology already on his lips, an apology that Steve swallowed before he’d even found his voice.
So maybe Tony wasn’t the only one that had planned this.
After that everything had spiraled out of control. He knew he’d protested, knew he’d tried to tell them this was impossible, but of all the people he’d ever known Tony understood what he was better than anyone. It almost made him want to trust him when Tony told him to shut up and enjoy it. For a moment he had, briefly he’d surrendered,
But then Bruce was caught between the two of them, being tugged and teased and kissed and caressed until somehow they weren’t in the lab anymore, they were in Tony’s bedroom upstairs and Steve was unfastening the buttons of his shirt and it was all too much and too fast and too dangerous. The fact that he doesn’t remember being in the elevator, doesn’t remember feeling that ever-present anxiety that enclosed spaces always give him, that’s what has him stepping back, quickly, too quickly, so quickly that he’s falling the next second, having run into the foot of the bed. He lands splayed across the end of the bed, his hair disheveled his shirt unbuttoned and off his shoulders, brown eyes wide with realization and no small amount of fear.
He couldn’t do this, they couldn’t do this. Damn them both for being so deliciously, intoxicatingly real. For offering him something that was so much more than just this physical thing though there were no words between them about exactly what it was. It was the trust, the willingness for a connection that was far deeper than he deserved. It was knowing that if they continued he could easily destroy them both. Damn them for offering him things he could not have, didn’t deserve. And most of all damn him for almost taking it anyway.
Bruce splayed over the bed was apparently where they were wanting to take this because Tony was there, taking over where Steve had left off, undressing him. Clever hands making short work of the fastenings of his pants and that’s when Bruce’s brain finally caught up. He swatted Tony’s hands away, rolling off the bed as quickly as he could and staggering to his feet. He had to drop his hands down to catch his pants before they fall and it only served as a reminder, was too similar to a dozen other times when he’s woken to find himself clutching at the shredded remains of fabric around his waist.
Another strained protest as his gaze lifted from Tony who is still half kneeling on the bed over the space Bruce had just been occupying to Steve. Good, kind, practical Steve who saw the monster he was instead of Tony who flippantly ignored things that didn’t mesh with his version of reality. Steve who approached him slowly, like one would a wounded animal, slowly and carefully drawing the smaller man into those powerful arms and just holding him against his chest. Broad fingers carded through his hair again and it would be so easy to just let go, give in and take the comfort Steve offered.
But how could he?
Steve didn’t have to say anything, they all knew what the gesture was meant to be. Comfort, assurance, a silent promise that things would be okay when Bruce knew it was a lie. Then Tony was behind him, pulling his shirt away at last and murmuring things into his ear, calculations and precautions, a dozen permutations of various scenarios, all carefully planned for, all calculated in that brilliant mind of his and whispered hotly against Bruce’s skin like the most wicked kind of seduction. Not the seduction of his body, though they were certainly doing that. But of trust. Tony’s words, Steve’s unerring confidence in both of them though he had no idea what Tony was talking about, that kind of unflinching trust they had in each other and now asked him to have in them as well, in them and in himself.
It was hard, so hard. But he spent so much of his energy every day fighting himself that it was almost a relief to have something he could give in to, somewhere he could surrender and in another moment he was melting back against Tony’s chest, the solid circle of the arc reactor at his back simply a reminder that it wasn’t just pomp and swagger. Tony well and truly rewrote the laws of possibility, of reality, to suit his needs and right now Bruce Banner was his need. Bruce melting back against him, arching into his touch as Tony’s hands returned to their previous task of divesting him of his pants. Bruce moaning softly, almost as though he was afraid to let himself make too much noise against Steve’s lips.
He surrendered but not completely, not as completely as they had surely hoped. But when it had been so long he’d almost forgotten what it was like, had almost made himself forget, it was the most he could allow. Not until they knew, not until he could be sure. Part of him might have loved Tony for the obvious care and dedication he’d put into that litany of scientific debauchery that was murmured against Bruce’s skin again as Tony crawled over him onto the bed. But that didn’t mean he trusted him absolutely. Not when so much hung in the balance, not when Tony was the one most likely to end up hurt because of a single miscalculation.
So in the end it wasn’t that different from any other time Steve and Tony were together. The two worked in perfect concert, their motions easy and familiar, except that this time it was Bruce’s mouth that muffled Tony’s curses when Steve pushed inside of him. It was Bruce instead of the headboard that helped support Tony when his arms started to give out. And it wasn’t always Steve’s name on the other man’s lips.
It was hard for Bruce not to remind himself that even this was dangerous. Even this, just sitting amongst Tony’s pillows, leaning against the headboard and slowly, cautiously stroking his own erection while Tony held himself on hands and knees above him, desperately trying not to collapse against him from the force of Steve’s thrusts. This was dangerous and heady and something he wanted so badly to believe was okay, would be okay. That the next time he woke up naked it wouldn’t be to blood and pain and destruction but to this, to trusting friends and Steve’s heartbreakingly sincere smile and that playful, devious light in Tony’s eyes.
The thought was enough to have him arching slightly beneath Tony, gasping in a harsh breath, his fingers tightening around himself, his other hand clenching hard in the blankets. A pulse of fear ran through him with the way it made his heart race but then Tony was derailing that thought before it could continue, kissing him again, deep and demanding and a little sloppy with their combined breathlessness.
Tony groaned into that kiss as Steve’s hand slid from his hip down to stroke him and in return Tony’s hand shifted to join Bruce’s on himself. Somehow that moment became the most intensely pleasurable and terrifying thing he’d experienced in a long time, possibly in his whole life. He jerked his head to the side, breaking that kiss, gasping in desperate breaths to tell Tony no. Tell him not to touch him, that he wasn’t safe, that he shouldn’t have this, that he was sorry for ever agreeing to it. The normal reserve and caution Bruce put into every aspect of himself, especially his words, fell away as he teetered on the edge of his first orgasm in nearly a decade and he found himself squirming, trying to get away, begging Tony not to touch him, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t hurt him.
The hand curled around him stayed firm and steady though, or as much so as Tony could manage with his own orgasm fast approaching. He said something, half growled determined words against tanned skin, countering every semi-coherent sentence that fell from Bruce’s lips. Until, abruptly, Bruce fell silent, face scrunching up in something that was a heart wrenching blend of fear and pleasure as he spilled himself over Tony’s hand, breaths coming hard but so determinedly even, trying to think even through his orgasm, to not let go, to focus and count and try to force his heart rate down even before he’d finished.
It was the half second after when he realized that he was still lying beneath Tony, still him, still safe, still there with them that a shaky kind of half laugh escaped him and he was staring at them in awe. Wide brown eyes welled with something that was part joy and part relief that spilled down his cheeks even as he dove in to kiss Tony again, stealing the cry of Steve’s name from his lips when he came a moment later.
Tony collapsed on Bruce’s chest and he had no choice but to turn that grateful kiss to press into Tony’s hair instead, his mouth now occupied groaning curses against Bruce’s throat while Steve thrust into him again and again, finally reaching his climax while Bruce held his gaze over Tony’s back, murmuring two words that somehow simultaneously said nowhere near enough and everything that needed to be said.
“Thank you.”