AU Fic: Burgundy 2/3
Sep. 2nd, 2012 07:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cloversworldBurgundy 2/3 by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
clover71
written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
au_bigbang2012
Fandom: Avengers (movie verse) | Pairing: Steve Rogers/ Tony Stark
Rating: NC-17 | Warning: Infidelity (in a twisted kind of way?)
All other info: check the MASTER POST
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2
Tony woke up with a dull ache somewhere along his tailbone, a cramp tugging on the muscles when he twisted to lie on his back. The moment his sleep-clouded mind jumpstarted, memories of what happened last night – or should he say, early that morning – came jabbing in his conscious thoughts.
Shit. He sprang up to sit on his butt, immediately regretting the stupid move when sharp pain tore through his lower body.
It took a while before his mind registered the cold, empty spot next to him. He was sure there was something out of place, was sure he had a warm body pressed up against him not too long ago.
Colorful curses spilled out of his mouth, half of him hating what he did and half of him… well, half of him liked it. The memory of the mind-blowing sex flashed in his mind and his body hummed, remembering the feeling of Steve's hands and mouth and tongue all over him.
But… but it was still weird doing it with a guy.
The thought of Steve made Tony wonder where the blond hunk of a man was. He spied a piece of yellow paper on the small desk at the corner of the room. Wincing as he slid out of bed, Tony braced himself for the discomfort and forced his legs to move.
On the desk sat a note from Steve that read: Tony, you were incredible last night. Sorry I had to slip out of the room without waking you up. You looked so peaceful that I couldn't find it in my heart to disturb your slumber. I have to work. I hope I'll get to see you again. Steve.
Below the neat handwriting were a bunch of numbers that Tony presumed was Steve's phone number. He considered crumpling the note, tossing it to the trash can along with the only way he could probably keep in touch with Steve. But there was something in him that coaxed him to tear off the part that had the number and left the top half on the table. There was no way he was going to risk anyone reading that, specially Pepper.
When he made it back to his suite, Pepper was all packed and dressed in a pencil-cut skirt and a cream-colored blouse. She planted her hands on her hips, glared at him in a reprimanding way then her gaze softened. "What happened to you? You look like you've been mugged by a gang of ten."
I was mugged all right, brushed against the forefront of Tony;s mind. "Slept in cargo. Damn hot in there and the wooden crate killed every nerve on my back," he lied, hoping to all gods in heaven – be it mythical or not – that Pepper would buy it, would not pry any further.
"Oh you poor baby," she cooed, wrapping an arm over his shoulders. "If you weren't so tactless, you could've slept on a comfortable bed, you know. Why don't you take a shower and get dressed? I took the liberty of packing your stuff. We're docking in Cannes in half an hour, so hurry." She punctuated her less than amiable instruction with a smack on Tony's ass and it took all of his fucking self-control not to yowl.
Shower, he did. Get dressed, he did. But hurry up, he did not. Tony took his sweet time, images of Steve all naked and sweaty and lustful swam in his dazed mind. The experience was something that left Tony yearning for more.
It wasn't like he hadn't had sex before. He loved sleeping around with women during the last years in high school and his entire college life. After college though, he became too focused trying to make a career and fulfilling his duties as the next leader of Jarvis. Any interest in women or sex or relationships for that matter was pushed down to the ever-growing list of priorities.
Not even when he learned about the arranged marriage did the spark return. Now there was Steve Rogers – a man he wasn't even sure he'd ever see again.
"You done daydreaming?" Pepper's voice broke through Tony's musing. "The ship had docked fifteen minutes ago. We need to disembark soon."
"Of course." Tony threw on a sports jacket, forgoing his usual pristine shirt and tie because he was certain the outfit didn't suit well while walking around Cannes. So he opted for a teal cashmere sweater instead.
When he was descending the narrow stairs several feet behind Pepper and her own sentries, he noticed a man dressed in crisp white uniform with epaulet sitting on each shoulder standing near the bottom of the stairs. A yachting cap partially covered his face but Tony could see the neatly-combed blond hair falling on the sides.
His heart leapt as he came closer. And closer. And he was close enough to see Steve's face adorned with the charming smile that completely disarmed Tony the previous night.
"Tony!" There was a light in Steve's eyes that melted the ice around Tony's heart.
"Steve, I uh… just… I mean what are you doing here?" Tony knew that was the wrong thing to ask so he backpedaled immediately. "I mean, why are you dressed… what do you do exactly?"
"I'm the captain of this ship," Steve said, lifting his arm to indicate he meant The Avenging Maiden in a grand gesture.
"Oh." Oh perfect. Tony's mind was reeling, unable to focus on one single thought.
Steve's eyes darted around them, maybe to check if anyone was within earshot, then he leaned in, close enough to whisper, "I had an amazing time last night. Sadly, you're married, be it arranged or not. If you were single, I wouldn't let you go."
Tony's heart shattered at that casual remark, but he knew Steve was right. He gave Steve a firm nod, doing his best to keep his cool. "I guess this is it," were the only words Tony uttered before stalking off after his wife and his clan members and the life that, he hadn't completely realized before, sucked big time.
Life at sea had always kept Steve from getting tied to one person. He had casual sex with men before, had watched these men walk out of his life as if the one night – sometimes more – they shared were nothing but a page in Steve's navigational journal.
There may have been instances wherein he was touched with a fleeting disappointment but none like this, certainly not the way his chest constricted at the sight of Tony's retreating form.
"Captain, there'd be papers to sign," someone said and Steve clawed out of his brooding stupor, spun around, only to be greeted with the silly grin that stretched across Clint's face. "Did you find yourself a new playmate?" Clint's gaze traveled to the dark Mercedes Benz Viano that was taking Tony out of the pier parking lot to God-knows-where.
"He's not a playmate," Steve snapped, and, as an afterthought or maybe to reserve a bit of his dignity rather than sounding defensive, he added, "and he's married."
"Yeah, sure." Clint lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, lips twisted as if he was unconvinced. "So? You expect me to believe that small detail would stop you from pursuing him? I mean, I've seen the way you looked at him, like you're some kind of predator who had just found his meal."
Steve chose to ignore Clint's mockery and instead poured all his focus in reading and signing the documents held in the clipboard that Clint handed him. "The ship will undergo maintenance as scheduled. That means we don't sail in a week."
"Right, Cap. I'll see you in a week." Clint held Steve's hand briefly in a firm shake before climbing up the steps that led to the ship's lower deck.
A week. Steve couldn't remember the last time he had a long break. And perfect timing too. During this time of the year, his house in Grenoble had often been occupied by transient tourists. Not this year though.
After he was sure all the passengers had safely disembarked, he made a quick call to his house sitter while he made his way back to his cabin to pack, informing her that he would be home for the week.
When his eyes landed on the rumpled sheets of his bed the moment he stepped inside his room – his home at sea – the memory of the previous night crashed hard in his head, and his chest swirled with emotions he couldn't name, his mind chanting, Tony, Tony, Tony.
Steve fished his phone out of his pocket, stared at it while berating himself because he was too sanguine to believe that leaving his phone number in the note would prompt Tony to call him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should've asked for Tony's number instead.
What was done was done. He would have to wallow in regret for the rest of the week. And hopefully, any thoughts of Tony would seep out of his system after that.
It had been the worst three days of his life.
First, Tony acquired the most painful sunburn he ever had when Pepper insisted they lie on the beach of Cannes while the afternoon sun glared down at them like some angry fire god. Yes, it was Tony's fault for refusing to cover his body with sunscreen but.
Then, Pepper had to drag him all the way to Paris the next day, had to carry her shopping bags while he trailed after her like some trained puppy.
Now… now she had this brilliant idea to purchase wine from several wineries in Bourgogne. "We need a new collection of wine for the cellar and this is the best place to buy them," she had said but Tony had had enough and decided to stay in the van they've rented. Only when Pepper had added, "Your loss. They give free taste of the finest Burgundy wine here," did Tony perk up and hop out of the vehicle after his wife and her bodyguards.
"Do you have um…" Tony racked his brain, thinking, What's the name, what's it called? Damn it. "oh, Pinot Noir," he said in the best French accent he could manage. It had been years since he used the language, years since he was forced to learn it when his mother took him to Paris every summer during his early teens."
"Good choice," the man with a balding head said then brought out a bottle out from a crate with a flourish. "The best we have."
Tony took a sip from the glass offered but it tasted nothing close to the one Steve preferred. Fuck! Why the hell was he thinking about Steve?
"You like it?" Pepper's voice interrupted Tony's musing.
"Nah. It lacks that lush and creamy taste, kind of earthy and sweet and dark." Tony trailed off wistfully, images of naked Steve tracing the rim of a wine glass with his tongue floated in Tony's mind.
"Tony?" Pepper had this look on her face, like she was dissecting Tony's brain. "Would you like to get some of this," she asked, holding up a bottle of wine with pink label.
"I don't care. Your call." Tony handed back the glass that was still clutched between his fingers. "Listen, I uh… I'm gonna take a walk outside."
Pepper laid a hand on Tony's arm, a look of concern framing her face. "Are you okay? You seem… distracted."
"I uh… I'm fine. Just need some air." Tony didn't wait for Pepper's reaction, just took unhurried strides outside the building and into the vast lawn sitting in front of the vineyard.
When they get to Beaune, Tony felt too tired to get off the van so he told Pepper he'd stay inside, catch some snooze at the back.
The sun pouring through the rear window was what woke Tony up, blinding radiance piercing through his closed lids and uncomfortable heat fanning out on his face.
There was a soft crack on his back when he lifted himself off the leather-covered cushion of the backseat and he winced, rubbing the ache on his lower back with his knuckles.
The van was empty. There was no sign of the driver and his lone bodyguard stood like a statue outside. Tony slid a window open and asked, "Where are the others?"
Nick peered up at him through the dark tint of his sunglasses. "They've been in there for more than half an hour now, boss."
Tony waved a hand, saying, "Can you go see what's taking them so long?" And when Nick didn't budge, Tony rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine. I'm pretty sure no one would jump into the van and throttle me. Just… hurry, okay?" He watched Nick disappear right around the corner of a brick house.
A couple of minutes had passed and boredom started creeping into the back of his mind. Five minutes had gone by. No one from his party had showed up and Tony wondered what the fuck was taking them so long.
Restless, he crept out of the van to stretch his legs and curiosity prodded him to roam around the premises. He was admiring the intricacy of a statue that stood near the main house when he heard the sound of an engine humming. When he stepped out of the statue's shadow, he saw the van moving farther away.
"Hey!" he hollered, waving his arms frantically while he dashed toward the driveway. The bus seemed to increase speed though when it reached the unpaved road, leaving Tony behind. "Fuck!"
Tony continued his trek, hopelessly trailing after the van's tire tracks. Good thing he was wearing a pair of sneakers, jeans and a long-sleeved shirt rather than his usual suit. It would be extremely uncomfortable being in business attire when he was dragging his exhausted body through the middle of nowhere.
Once he'd realized he had placed a frightening distance between himself and the vineyard, he stopped, found a large rock to sit on and contemplated his next move. My phone. Of course, his phone. He dug in his front pocket to fish for the gadget. Why he didn't think of it in the first place was beyond his frantic mind. Panic had seized him, removed his ability to consider his course of actions.
When he tried Pepper's number though, he was greeted with a voice mail. He parted his lips, every curse known to man balancing on the tip of his tongue. Nothing came out of his mouth though, not the tiniest peep.
Shit. What am I doing? Tony's thumb jabbed on the end button then hovered over the Contacts icon in search for any of his sentry's number. Instead, he came across Steve's.
He wasn't sure what had possessed him to keep the damn number in his phone but now he was glad he did. He pressed on the 'call' button, listened to the soft ringing then his heart dropped when he heard the familiar baritone of Steve's liquid voice.
"Steve, hey," came out of Tony's mouth in a desperate sigh. "Listen. I know this is going to sound weird but... I'm stranded somewhere. Can you like, come and get me? That is if you haven't sailed and is in the middle of the sea right now?"
"Where are you exactly?" The worry in Steve's voice was palpable, something Tony refused to believe because why would Steve care? "Near a vineyard in Beaune."
"I know where that is. Hang tight."
Like Tony had anywhere to go. "Sure. And please hurry."
The call was something Steve didn't expect. It had been three days – three fucking miserable days and he hadn't heard a word from or about Tony. He could've asked around, searched through the hotels in Cannes for any guest with the name Tony Stark. But then he figured a man with that reputation wouldn't risk booking a room under his real name.
When a phone number came flashing across his phone's screen without any identification, Steve had held his breath – hoping and hoping and hoping. And when Tony's voice – deep and rough on the surface – came through the earpiece, Steve wondered for a moment if he was caught in some kind of a hopeful illusion.
Tony hadn't exactly explained why he was in Beaune alone but he sounded desperate and lost so Steve steered his car to the main road leading to Burgundy as soon as the call ended.
Steve later realized when he was near the region that he should have kept Tony on the line, just to make sure Tony was fine. He slowed down when he had reached the countryside, stopping long enough to call Tony back.
"Hey." Tony's voice was like a caress. Soothing. Tempting.
Steve could feel his jeans tightening and he gripped on his phone as if that alone could keep him from losing control. Shit, he hated how Tony seemed to have this deranging effect on his oftentimes calm state of mind. "I'm almost at Beaune," he said, a little firmer than he intended. "Do you remember the name of the winery? Or the owner at least?"
"Yeah. Sure I do." There was a momentary silence, as if Tony was trying to remember where he was. "Patriarche Pere something. But I'm about three kilometers away from the vineyard. I've been walking."
"Okay. Okay. Just," Steve pulled the phone away so he could press on the speaker button then placed the gadget on the holder attached to his dashboard, "just stay where you are. I'll go find you." He turned on his GPS and programmed it to search for the winery.
Thick cloud of dust rose when his Peugeot zoomed along the dirt road sandwiched between a stretch of land and fenced vineyard.
Fifteen minutes later, he spots a lone figure huddled at the side of the road. Steve eased on the gas pedal and the car slowed down then stopped right in front of a haggard-looking Tony Stark.
"What took you so long?" Tony spat and Steve wasn't sure if he should feel any guilt but an apology was on the tip of his tongue. When he stepped out of his car though, Tony was quick to close the distance and he grabbed the edge of Steve's jacket, gave it an insistent tug and crushed his lips on Steve.
The kiss was messy, filled with frustration and longing and their tongues swirled possessively, and Steve could only interpret it as I missed you. I want you. Take me, take me, take me.
Tony was the one who broke the kiss first but his fingers remained curled on the leather fabric of Steve's jacket.
"Wow," was all Steve could utter, the tips of his fingers lingering on his bruised lips.
"Do you have any idea how close I was to losing my mind because I couldn't stop thinking about you, you bastard?" Tony said with less vehemence than what was probably intended.
"I am flattered." Steve couldn't stop grinning, his face felt so stretched and stupid. Once they were both in the car with their seat belts on, he asked, "What, pray tell, are you doing out here all alone?" before starting the engine. "Aren't you supposed to be in the middle of your honeymoon in Cannes?"
Tony gave a sardonic snort. "There is absolutely no honeymoon but there had been endless shopping spree and tedious sightseeing."
"In Burgundy of all places?"
"Pepper thought this was the best place to buy wine. She's got quite a collection back home."
"She's got taste." The drive back to where the road forked seemed faster for Steve, maybe because now he wanted every minute with Tony to last. "Where are we headed off to?"
"We're staying at a hotel in Cannes but for fuck's sake, I can't remember the name." Tony rubbed on his temple, gaze trained outside his window.
Steve lifted an eyebrow. "Can't you call Pepper and ask?" Then a thought hit him like a ton of bricks. "Why did you call me to pick you up instead of calling Pepper or any of your companions?"
It took a while for Tony to stir, to respond. His eyes sparkled as if it held so many secrets and when he spoke, it was with overt honesty. "I wanted to see you."
Damn. Those five words did things to Steve that he had to keep a firmer grip on the steering wheel, lest he would drive them off the path. "Jeez, Tony. Don't say things like that. I might end up pulling over and have my way with you at the back seat of my car."
"Why don't you then?" The flirtatious way Tony spoke was testing Steve's willpower, driving him off the brink and Steve could feel the beginnings of an irrepressible arousal boiling hot inside him.
When Tony laid a hand on Steve's thigh, thumb stroking languidly at first then with a bit of pressure, Steve threw all caution to the wind. "Okay. Okay, fine." His limbs were shaking. "Fine. I'm taking you home."
Steve's house wasn't that huge, compared to Tony's mansion in New York. But it was considerably big for just one man, even though Steve said he has a house sitter slash housekeeper with him.
"Are you hungry?" Steve asked, taking his jacket off to reveal the muscles bulging out of his polo shirt. "I can ask Ynez to fix us a sandwich or something."
"Yeah. That… that sounds good." Tony watched Steve disappear through an open archway, calling out for someone named Ynez, probably his house sitter. When he returned a minute later, Tony asked, "This your house? So you live here in France?"
"This is my grandfather's winter house, actually." Steve led him to the living room, tossing his jacket on the back of a wooden chair. "He passed away years ago, left me this place since I just started working on a European cruise ship back then."
"You're American though, right?"
"Born and raised. My parents were Irish immigrants though." There was a small bar in the corner where Steve puttered around, brought out a bottle and looked over his shoulder. "Care for a drink?"
Tony huffed, amused. "Let me guess. Burgundy wine?"
"You know me well enough," Steve said with a shrug.
"Give me whatever you're having."
They talked for a while, ate, and had a few more wine then Tony felt the effects of exhaustion like his bones were being melted and turned into rubber. He tried to suppress a yawn to no avail and Steve chuckled, low and soft, asked, "Tired?" while kneading on Tony's shoulder. It felt good, felt so good that Tony started leaning on Steve's touch.
"Yeah," Tony said with a groan. "Yeah."
"C'mon." Steve brought Tony to his room, much larger – thrice the size even – than the one Steve has on the ship.
"Nice." Tony dropped on the bed face first, mind clinging on the edge of consciousness but he was falling… falling slowly to the surface of slumber. His cheek was pressed on the pillow and he caught Steve's scent, musky and manly and arousing.
"I can give you a massage, if you want," Steve said, voice sounded so entrancing. "Why don't you take off your shoes so you can lie properly on your stomach?"
Tony didn't bother to move from his spot, just toed off his shoes and listened to the telltale thump it made when it hit the floor. Then he felt Steve's large and strong hands on his legs then on his thighs, kneading and pressing and stroking and oh… oh, feels good.
Steve was probably some kind of a miracle healer because he certainly knew which spots needed more attention, where to put more pressure, where to just rub and where to squeeze. Tony felt like he was in heaven. Any remnants of the fatigue that had been killing his muscles evaporated into a loose numbness.
"Don't fall asleep on me," he heard Steve say… or at least that was what it sounded like and Tony hummed in response, must have said a word or two but he was too far on his way into the slumber country, mind losing grasp to consciousness, so he wasn't sure if those were coherent phrases that came out of his mouth.
"Sure thing," were the last words Steve heard from Tony before the sound of soft whistling rolled out through his parted lips.
Steve sat there for a while, perched on the edge of his bed, while watching Tony sleep. Something unfurled in his chest – something he wasn't sure what to name. Fondness perhaps. Or affection.
Then he leaned over and did the sappiest thing he'd ever done in probably two years: he planted a kiss on Tony's temple.
His heart did a double flip when he realized what he'd done but he didn't back off right away, just stilled, face hovering over Tony's.
"Mr. Rogers?" Ynez's voice filtering through the closed door broke through his foolish trance. "You have a phone call, sir. It's Mr. Barton. Said he couldn't reach your mobile phone."
Shit. Steve fished out his phone from his pocket and just as he thought, his phone was off. Battery must be dead.
"Thanks Ynez. I'll be down in a few seconds," he called out while he rummaged through his bureau to look for his charger.
Once he had his phone plugged into the charger, he rushed down the stairs and straight to the living room. "Clint, sorry about that," he said when he had the receiver pressed against his ear.
"Are you with someone?" Clint said in a teasing tone and sometimes Steve couldn't help but wonder if his friend was psychic or something.
Steve's answering silence must have given Clint a hint because he made a sound as if someone had grabbed his throat, then Clint clucked his tongue. "You bastard. Did you actually go seek out that Mafia guy?"
"He's not a Mafia guy. He's just…" Just what, exactly? "…just a guy. No. I mean, he's an awesome man. He doesn't need to carry that tag along with him."
"So he is with you." It wasn't a question, more like a statement, and the incredulity was palpable in Clint's voice. "You be careful, okay, Steve? You don't know how these men are."
Steve's mind went swirling to a thousand directions. "It's not like that. I mean, I don't know. What… Crap! Why did you call anyway?"
Soft laughter rumbled through the earpiece. "I'm just calling to let you know that the schedule of departure was moved to Tuesday. They've been trying to contact you for the past hour. Don't get too distracted, Steve."
"I won't." I won't. Or he hoped he wouldn't.
Clint's warnings haunted him for the next hour or so. He probably spent half an hour brooding in his study, nursing a glass of Pinot Noir.
Tony was just waking up when Steve returned to his room. Steve's breath got caught in his throat because the man was quite a sight: dark hair attractively disheveled, eyes droopy, the soft yellow glow from the wall lamp bathing his olive skin and his shirt riding up his waist to reveal his toned up abdomen.
Just like that, any guarded morale Steve possessed vanished in thin air. He had to have this man once more, had to have this man underneath him – perhaps over him, riding him. He didn't care how. All he wanted was to take Tony, to taste Tony Stark again.
There was something in Steve's eyes – the hunger, the need, the want – and the way Steve looked at him broke Tony's reservations.
He wasn't usually trustworthy, not with the environment he grew up in, but with Steve… with Steve, everything seemed simple and safe.
"Hey," Tony said, voice still laced with sleep.
"Sleep well?" Steve approached the bed like some animal ready to pounce his prey.
"Yeah." Tony had to swallow the lump lodged his throat. He never expected to find the mere sight of a gorgeous man so arousing. "I just. Can I have a drink?"
"Sure." Steve's mouth descended on his and Tony can taste the sweet and earthy flavor of Burgundy wine on Steve's lips – on Steve's tongue – and it was more intoxicating than actually ingesting it. "Still want that drink?" Steve asked when he pulled away, casting Tony with a conniving smile that sent chills up Tony's spine.
Tony grabbed the front of Steve's shirt and pulled him back, closed his mouth over Steve's in a bruising kiss. When they parted, Tony said, "A glass of water would be divine," and Steve laughed, low and sultry that made Tony tremble.
"Sure." Steve went over to a small fridge and returned with a green bottle in his hand. He handed it Tony, said, "All I have is Perrier," and once Tony had downed half of the contents, Steve took the bottle from his hand and placed it on the bedside table. "Where were we? Oh." His mouth is on Tony in a flash, giving Tony no time to brace himself so Tony fell back on the bed with Steve climbing on top of him.
It was futile to even try and put up a fight. Tony wanted this, craved for this. This was all he could think of for the past three days. He bucked his hips up, seeking contact, wanting to feel Steve's body pressed against him.
And Steve wasn't one to disappoint. The weight of Steve was on him, their bodies merging. Chest to chest. Stomach to stomach. Thighs to thighs. Tony could feel Steve's erection rubbing against his own, creating delicious friction despite the fabric of their jeans in the way.
It wasn't enough though. Tony wanted more, wanted to feel skin against skin. Desperately, he pulled at the hem of Steve's shirt and Steve sat on his haunches to pull it over his head, unbuckle his belt and undo the button and zipper of his jeans.
Tony mirrored him, almost tearing his sweater off in his haste, denims scraping against his thighs in his frantic move to slip it off.
Soon, they were both divested off their clothing, Steve tossing his boxers aside while Tony kicked off his own.
His body hummed when Steve's sucked on his left clavicle, the pressure no doubt would leave a mark and Tony was so lost in the sensation he didn't even have time to consider the possible consequences. His mind was screaming, take me, make me yours, and he was drowning in pleasure, sounds he never thought he could make scraping out of his throat.
"Steve," he said, the name blowing out of his lips like a night breeze.
The fingers deftly entering him, stretching him made his body quiver, fingers digging into Steve's flesh. So lost. So lost that Tony hadn't realized Steve's head had moved south until he felt the warmth of Steve's mouth on his cock, sucking and tonguing and driving him insane.
Tony couldn’t stop his hips from snapping up to drive his erection further into Steve's throat. Wanting more. Needing more.
When Steve released his cock, he felt a wave of disappointment and frustration but those feelings quickly left him when he felt something wet and velvety press against his… Fuck!… against his entrance.
Steve's fingers slid out of him only to be replaced with Steve's tongue, prodding the ring of muscle that cause a wild string of frissons coursing through his body.
More. He wanted more. Tony could feel his lips moving but he wasn't sure if he was able to form words, words he meant to say. His fingers that were buried in Steve's blond locks closed in on a tighter grip.
It felt like he was in some sort of suspended animation and he didn't realize right away that Steve had halted. When he no longer felt the glorious sensation of Steve's tongue on his entrance, he lifted his head to find Steve easing a condom on his erection.
Tony's cock twitched at the sight and he couldn't take his eyes off of Steve even as Steve pushed into him, filling him. The slow, gentle thrust drove Tony mad. He clung on Steve's biceps, eyes piercing right through Steve's. "Do it," Tony growled. "Faster."
That one command must have pushed the right button. Steve soon pummeled into him with such force that it stung but Tony ignored the discomfort and just… just enjoyed the ride.
Not long after, Tony could feel all of his blood rushing down his groin. Before his hand could slide over to his cock though, Steve clasped on it and started pumping, thumb rubbing the tip, putting pressure on the right spots until every cell in Tony's body vibrated and he was hurled into a blinding orgasm.
Steve came almost at the same time, pushing deeper and deeper and Tony could feel the tremors that resonated off of Steve.
"I have to…," Tony said, lifting his phone.
"Yeah sure." Steve knew what he meant. Tony had to call his wife. And Tony didn't really have to like… ask for Steve's permission. As if Steve had a right to stop him. Tony had to anyway, had to let Pepper know he was fine.
Steve knew it was impolite to listen to someone else's conversation and that he should slink away. But he didn't. Couldn't. So Steve remained on the bed, inadvertently hearing every word Tony said, heard Tony utter, "I can't believe you didn't even notice I wasn't in the fucking van," in a hushed but angry tone until Tony glided toward the farther corner of the room, voice evanescing to almost a whisper.
"So," Tony said after a while, tossing his phone on the nightstand. He climbed on the bed, just close to the edge. "Apparently, we're staying at Le Grand." A look of defeat crossed Tony's face. "I should head there this morning before Pepper sends out a search party. They've been looking for me since yesterday. Can you imagine? She said they only noticed I wasn't in the van when they were almost at Cannes. How stupid is that?"
"Okay," Steve conceded, though the word tasted like ash in his mouth. "Okay. I'll drive you there. But can we do that after breakfast?"
There was a huge part of him that wanted to ask Tony to stay – perhaps just for another day, or a couple, or maybe, forever – which was stupid because. And… and he shouldn't be clinging to someone, married or not. His life was at sea. He just couldn't have someone waiting for him on land all the time.
"Sure. After breakfast. Maybe even after…" Tony's hand traveled up Steve's thigh, squeezing suggestively, "you know."
Steve's cock jumped in response. Damn. This was so wrong. So wrong. Because this? This was clearly an affair.
After a quick breakfast and a round of romping on his bed, Steve drove Tony all the way to Cannes. His heart felt like it was pumping liquid nitrogen instead of blood and whatever this feeling was crawling through his chest sucked, really, really sucked.
There was an army of casually-dressed men that were no doubt part of Tony's gang waiting at the entrance of Le Grand Hotel when they arrived. Steve guessed that the informal clothes were supposed to make them less inconspicuous but it wasn't working.
"Mr. Stark," the dark-skinned one said. Steve was quick to presume this was the head of Tony's team of bodyguards. "Miss Potts—I mean, Mrs. Stark has been waiting for you."
"I called her, told her what time I was coming, didn't I?" Tony snapped and made a beeline straight to the lobby.
Steve wasn't sure what to do, wasn't sure if he should just hop back in his car and drive away or if he should follow Tony.
A valet parking attendant came up to him, said, "Sir?" and Steve took that as his cue. He tossed the key to the hotel employee and breezed after Tony and his men.
Tony was standing just outside the elevator with one of his men holding the door open and he smiled when he caught sight of Steve. "He's with me, Nick. He's a friend," he said when the leader-looking bodyguard held out an arm to stop Steve.
As soon as they stepped into Tony's suite, Tony was swallowed into a commotion of bodyguards and family members who barraged him with questions like where the hell he had been and what took him so long to return.
Steve slunk away, melting against the wall and feeling like a useless outsider. He could hear Tony, but couldn't decipher what the man was saying because of all the noise.
Pepper was all over Tony, doting on him and reprimanding him all the same. And Tony… Tony seemed to have forgotten all about Steve.
This wasn't his place anymore so Steve slowly ambled outside the suite, leaving Tony to his wife, to his family, to his world.
He had one foot inside the lift when he heard Tony yell, "Steve, wait!" so he looked over his shoulder to find Tony rushing after him.
"Where are you going? Why did you leave?" Tony sounded painfully disappointed. "I was going to introduce you to—"
"It's okay, Tony. There's no need. Why don't you go back inside?"
"No. Wait." Tony hopped into the lift after Steve. "What are you…? I mean, what's going on? I thought we're friends."
Friends? Steve did his best not to scoff. "It's complicated," skips out of his mouth and he could see the frown forming on Tony's forehead through the corner of his eye.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Tony spat.
Steve wasn't sure how to explain it. He didn't even know what was going through his head. And his heart. And… Damn! "This." He slammed his mouth against Tony's, pushing Tony against the elevator's wall.
Tony's jaw slackens, lips parting, so Steve pushes his tongue into Tony's waiting mouth, tasting and devouring and hoping that this was enough to express the weight sitting heavily in his chest.
The soft ding vaguely reached Steve's ears but he didn't let go, just kept Tony pressed against the wall, his hand wandering down Tony's crotch. Only when he heard someone gasp did Steve tear his mouth away from Tony's.
An old woman was standing outside, hand on her chest, her mouth slightly open. "Oh," she said, eyes springing between Steve and Tony.
Tony's face turned a deep shade of red, the blush creeping all the way to the tip of his ears. He stormed out of the elevator with Steve in his shadow. "Fuck!" Colorful curses spilled out of Tony's mouth. "Fuck!" He grabbed a fistful of his dark hair and spun around to face Steve. "What were you thinking, Steve? What if… what if that was one of my family members who saw us? What if it was my dad? What if it was my wife? I have a wife, Steve! Damn it!"
It wasn't the outburst or the words Tony had thrown at him, but the hint of betrayal glimmering on Tony's eyes that felt much like a hard slap across Steve's face.
Steve had to take a step back, contemplating whether to raise his defenses or just… just walk away and forget this ever happened.
"You know what?" Tony had his hands raised in surrender. "Forget everything," were the last words Tony said before disappearing inside the elevator.
next part
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clover71written for
au_bigbang2012Fandom: Avengers (movie verse) | Pairing: Steve Rogers/ Tony Stark
Rating: NC-17 | Warning: Infidelity (in a twisted kind of way?)
All other info: check the MASTER POST
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2
Tony woke up with a dull ache somewhere along his tailbone, a cramp tugging on the muscles when he twisted to lie on his back. The moment his sleep-clouded mind jumpstarted, memories of what happened last night – or should he say, early that morning – came jabbing in his conscious thoughts.
Shit. He sprang up to sit on his butt, immediately regretting the stupid move when sharp pain tore through his lower body.
It took a while before his mind registered the cold, empty spot next to him. He was sure there was something out of place, was sure he had a warm body pressed up against him not too long ago.
Colorful curses spilled out of his mouth, half of him hating what he did and half of him… well, half of him liked it. The memory of the mind-blowing sex flashed in his mind and his body hummed, remembering the feeling of Steve's hands and mouth and tongue all over him.
But… but it was still weird doing it with a guy.
The thought of Steve made Tony wonder where the blond hunk of a man was. He spied a piece of yellow paper on the small desk at the corner of the room. Wincing as he slid out of bed, Tony braced himself for the discomfort and forced his legs to move.
On the desk sat a note from Steve that read: Tony, you were incredible last night. Sorry I had to slip out of the room without waking you up. You looked so peaceful that I couldn't find it in my heart to disturb your slumber. I have to work. I hope I'll get to see you again. Steve.
Below the neat handwriting were a bunch of numbers that Tony presumed was Steve's phone number. He considered crumpling the note, tossing it to the trash can along with the only way he could probably keep in touch with Steve. But there was something in him that coaxed him to tear off the part that had the number and left the top half on the table. There was no way he was going to risk anyone reading that, specially Pepper.
When he made it back to his suite, Pepper was all packed and dressed in a pencil-cut skirt and a cream-colored blouse. She planted her hands on her hips, glared at him in a reprimanding way then her gaze softened. "What happened to you? You look like you've been mugged by a gang of ten."
I was mugged all right, brushed against the forefront of Tony;s mind. "Slept in cargo. Damn hot in there and the wooden crate killed every nerve on my back," he lied, hoping to all gods in heaven – be it mythical or not – that Pepper would buy it, would not pry any further.
"Oh you poor baby," she cooed, wrapping an arm over his shoulders. "If you weren't so tactless, you could've slept on a comfortable bed, you know. Why don't you take a shower and get dressed? I took the liberty of packing your stuff. We're docking in Cannes in half an hour, so hurry." She punctuated her less than amiable instruction with a smack on Tony's ass and it took all of his fucking self-control not to yowl.
Shower, he did. Get dressed, he did. But hurry up, he did not. Tony took his sweet time, images of Steve all naked and sweaty and lustful swam in his dazed mind. The experience was something that left Tony yearning for more.
It wasn't like he hadn't had sex before. He loved sleeping around with women during the last years in high school and his entire college life. After college though, he became too focused trying to make a career and fulfilling his duties as the next leader of Jarvis. Any interest in women or sex or relationships for that matter was pushed down to the ever-growing list of priorities.
Not even when he learned about the arranged marriage did the spark return. Now there was Steve Rogers – a man he wasn't even sure he'd ever see again.
"You done daydreaming?" Pepper's voice broke through Tony's musing. "The ship had docked fifteen minutes ago. We need to disembark soon."
"Of course." Tony threw on a sports jacket, forgoing his usual pristine shirt and tie because he was certain the outfit didn't suit well while walking around Cannes. So he opted for a teal cashmere sweater instead.
When he was descending the narrow stairs several feet behind Pepper and her own sentries, he noticed a man dressed in crisp white uniform with epaulet sitting on each shoulder standing near the bottom of the stairs. A yachting cap partially covered his face but Tony could see the neatly-combed blond hair falling on the sides.
His heart leapt as he came closer. And closer. And he was close enough to see Steve's face adorned with the charming smile that completely disarmed Tony the previous night.
"Tony!" There was a light in Steve's eyes that melted the ice around Tony's heart.
"Steve, I uh… just… I mean what are you doing here?" Tony knew that was the wrong thing to ask so he backpedaled immediately. "I mean, why are you dressed… what do you do exactly?"
"I'm the captain of this ship," Steve said, lifting his arm to indicate he meant The Avenging Maiden in a grand gesture.
"Oh." Oh perfect. Tony's mind was reeling, unable to focus on one single thought.
Steve's eyes darted around them, maybe to check if anyone was within earshot, then he leaned in, close enough to whisper, "I had an amazing time last night. Sadly, you're married, be it arranged or not. If you were single, I wouldn't let you go."
Tony's heart shattered at that casual remark, but he knew Steve was right. He gave Steve a firm nod, doing his best to keep his cool. "I guess this is it," were the only words Tony uttered before stalking off after his wife and his clan members and the life that, he hadn't completely realized before, sucked big time.
Life at sea had always kept Steve from getting tied to one person. He had casual sex with men before, had watched these men walk out of his life as if the one night – sometimes more – they shared were nothing but a page in Steve's navigational journal.
There may have been instances wherein he was touched with a fleeting disappointment but none like this, certainly not the way his chest constricted at the sight of Tony's retreating form.
"Captain, there'd be papers to sign," someone said and Steve clawed out of his brooding stupor, spun around, only to be greeted with the silly grin that stretched across Clint's face. "Did you find yourself a new playmate?" Clint's gaze traveled to the dark Mercedes Benz Viano that was taking Tony out of the pier parking lot to God-knows-where.
"He's not a playmate," Steve snapped, and, as an afterthought or maybe to reserve a bit of his dignity rather than sounding defensive, he added, "and he's married."
"Yeah, sure." Clint lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, lips twisted as if he was unconvinced. "So? You expect me to believe that small detail would stop you from pursuing him? I mean, I've seen the way you looked at him, like you're some kind of predator who had just found his meal."
Steve chose to ignore Clint's mockery and instead poured all his focus in reading and signing the documents held in the clipboard that Clint handed him. "The ship will undergo maintenance as scheduled. That means we don't sail in a week."
"Right, Cap. I'll see you in a week." Clint held Steve's hand briefly in a firm shake before climbing up the steps that led to the ship's lower deck.
A week. Steve couldn't remember the last time he had a long break. And perfect timing too. During this time of the year, his house in Grenoble had often been occupied by transient tourists. Not this year though.
After he was sure all the passengers had safely disembarked, he made a quick call to his house sitter while he made his way back to his cabin to pack, informing her that he would be home for the week.
When his eyes landed on the rumpled sheets of his bed the moment he stepped inside his room – his home at sea – the memory of the previous night crashed hard in his head, and his chest swirled with emotions he couldn't name, his mind chanting, Tony, Tony, Tony.
Steve fished his phone out of his pocket, stared at it while berating himself because he was too sanguine to believe that leaving his phone number in the note would prompt Tony to call him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should've asked for Tony's number instead.
What was done was done. He would have to wallow in regret for the rest of the week. And hopefully, any thoughts of Tony would seep out of his system after that.
It had been the worst three days of his life.
First, Tony acquired the most painful sunburn he ever had when Pepper insisted they lie on the beach of Cannes while the afternoon sun glared down at them like some angry fire god. Yes, it was Tony's fault for refusing to cover his body with sunscreen but.
Then, Pepper had to drag him all the way to Paris the next day, had to carry her shopping bags while he trailed after her like some trained puppy.
Now… now she had this brilliant idea to purchase wine from several wineries in Bourgogne. "We need a new collection of wine for the cellar and this is the best place to buy them," she had said but Tony had had enough and decided to stay in the van they've rented. Only when Pepper had added, "Your loss. They give free taste of the finest Burgundy wine here," did Tony perk up and hop out of the vehicle after his wife and her bodyguards.
"Do you have um…" Tony racked his brain, thinking, What's the name, what's it called? Damn it. "oh, Pinot Noir," he said in the best French accent he could manage. It had been years since he used the language, years since he was forced to learn it when his mother took him to Paris every summer during his early teens."
"Good choice," the man with a balding head said then brought out a bottle out from a crate with a flourish. "The best we have."
Tony took a sip from the glass offered but it tasted nothing close to the one Steve preferred. Fuck! Why the hell was he thinking about Steve?
"You like it?" Pepper's voice interrupted Tony's musing.
"Nah. It lacks that lush and creamy taste, kind of earthy and sweet and dark." Tony trailed off wistfully, images of naked Steve tracing the rim of a wine glass with his tongue floated in Tony's mind.
"Tony?" Pepper had this look on her face, like she was dissecting Tony's brain. "Would you like to get some of this," she asked, holding up a bottle of wine with pink label.
"I don't care. Your call." Tony handed back the glass that was still clutched between his fingers. "Listen, I uh… I'm gonna take a walk outside."
Pepper laid a hand on Tony's arm, a look of concern framing her face. "Are you okay? You seem… distracted."
"I uh… I'm fine. Just need some air." Tony didn't wait for Pepper's reaction, just took unhurried strides outside the building and into the vast lawn sitting in front of the vineyard.
When they get to Beaune, Tony felt too tired to get off the van so he told Pepper he'd stay inside, catch some snooze at the back.
The sun pouring through the rear window was what woke Tony up, blinding radiance piercing through his closed lids and uncomfortable heat fanning out on his face.
There was a soft crack on his back when he lifted himself off the leather-covered cushion of the backseat and he winced, rubbing the ache on his lower back with his knuckles.
The van was empty. There was no sign of the driver and his lone bodyguard stood like a statue outside. Tony slid a window open and asked, "Where are the others?"
Nick peered up at him through the dark tint of his sunglasses. "They've been in there for more than half an hour now, boss."
Tony waved a hand, saying, "Can you go see what's taking them so long?" And when Nick didn't budge, Tony rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine. I'm pretty sure no one would jump into the van and throttle me. Just… hurry, okay?" He watched Nick disappear right around the corner of a brick house.
A couple of minutes had passed and boredom started creeping into the back of his mind. Five minutes had gone by. No one from his party had showed up and Tony wondered what the fuck was taking them so long.
Restless, he crept out of the van to stretch his legs and curiosity prodded him to roam around the premises. He was admiring the intricacy of a statue that stood near the main house when he heard the sound of an engine humming. When he stepped out of the statue's shadow, he saw the van moving farther away.
"Hey!" he hollered, waving his arms frantically while he dashed toward the driveway. The bus seemed to increase speed though when it reached the unpaved road, leaving Tony behind. "Fuck!"
Tony continued his trek, hopelessly trailing after the van's tire tracks. Good thing he was wearing a pair of sneakers, jeans and a long-sleeved shirt rather than his usual suit. It would be extremely uncomfortable being in business attire when he was dragging his exhausted body through the middle of nowhere.
Once he'd realized he had placed a frightening distance between himself and the vineyard, he stopped, found a large rock to sit on and contemplated his next move. My phone. Of course, his phone. He dug in his front pocket to fish for the gadget. Why he didn't think of it in the first place was beyond his frantic mind. Panic had seized him, removed his ability to consider his course of actions.
When he tried Pepper's number though, he was greeted with a voice mail. He parted his lips, every curse known to man balancing on the tip of his tongue. Nothing came out of his mouth though, not the tiniest peep.
Shit. What am I doing? Tony's thumb jabbed on the end button then hovered over the Contacts icon in search for any of his sentry's number. Instead, he came across Steve's.
He wasn't sure what had possessed him to keep the damn number in his phone but now he was glad he did. He pressed on the 'call' button, listened to the soft ringing then his heart dropped when he heard the familiar baritone of Steve's liquid voice.
"Steve, hey," came out of Tony's mouth in a desperate sigh. "Listen. I know this is going to sound weird but... I'm stranded somewhere. Can you like, come and get me? That is if you haven't sailed and is in the middle of the sea right now?"
"Where are you exactly?" The worry in Steve's voice was palpable, something Tony refused to believe because why would Steve care? "Near a vineyard in Beaune."
"I know where that is. Hang tight."
Like Tony had anywhere to go. "Sure. And please hurry."
The call was something Steve didn't expect. It had been three days – three fucking miserable days and he hadn't heard a word from or about Tony. He could've asked around, searched through the hotels in Cannes for any guest with the name Tony Stark. But then he figured a man with that reputation wouldn't risk booking a room under his real name.
When a phone number came flashing across his phone's screen without any identification, Steve had held his breath – hoping and hoping and hoping. And when Tony's voice – deep and rough on the surface – came through the earpiece, Steve wondered for a moment if he was caught in some kind of a hopeful illusion.
Tony hadn't exactly explained why he was in Beaune alone but he sounded desperate and lost so Steve steered his car to the main road leading to Burgundy as soon as the call ended.
Steve later realized when he was near the region that he should have kept Tony on the line, just to make sure Tony was fine. He slowed down when he had reached the countryside, stopping long enough to call Tony back.
"Hey." Tony's voice was like a caress. Soothing. Tempting.
Steve could feel his jeans tightening and he gripped on his phone as if that alone could keep him from losing control. Shit, he hated how Tony seemed to have this deranging effect on his oftentimes calm state of mind. "I'm almost at Beaune," he said, a little firmer than he intended. "Do you remember the name of the winery? Or the owner at least?"
"Yeah. Sure I do." There was a momentary silence, as if Tony was trying to remember where he was. "Patriarche Pere something. But I'm about three kilometers away from the vineyard. I've been walking."
"Okay. Okay. Just," Steve pulled the phone away so he could press on the speaker button then placed the gadget on the holder attached to his dashboard, "just stay where you are. I'll go find you." He turned on his GPS and programmed it to search for the winery.
Thick cloud of dust rose when his Peugeot zoomed along the dirt road sandwiched between a stretch of land and fenced vineyard.
Fifteen minutes later, he spots a lone figure huddled at the side of the road. Steve eased on the gas pedal and the car slowed down then stopped right in front of a haggard-looking Tony Stark.
"What took you so long?" Tony spat and Steve wasn't sure if he should feel any guilt but an apology was on the tip of his tongue. When he stepped out of his car though, Tony was quick to close the distance and he grabbed the edge of Steve's jacket, gave it an insistent tug and crushed his lips on Steve.
The kiss was messy, filled with frustration and longing and their tongues swirled possessively, and Steve could only interpret it as I missed you. I want you. Take me, take me, take me.
Tony was the one who broke the kiss first but his fingers remained curled on the leather fabric of Steve's jacket.
"Wow," was all Steve could utter, the tips of his fingers lingering on his bruised lips.
"Do you have any idea how close I was to losing my mind because I couldn't stop thinking about you, you bastard?" Tony said with less vehemence than what was probably intended.
"I am flattered." Steve couldn't stop grinning, his face felt so stretched and stupid. Once they were both in the car with their seat belts on, he asked, "What, pray tell, are you doing out here all alone?" before starting the engine. "Aren't you supposed to be in the middle of your honeymoon in Cannes?"
Tony gave a sardonic snort. "There is absolutely no honeymoon but there had been endless shopping spree and tedious sightseeing."
"In Burgundy of all places?"
"Pepper thought this was the best place to buy wine. She's got quite a collection back home."
"She's got taste." The drive back to where the road forked seemed faster for Steve, maybe because now he wanted every minute with Tony to last. "Where are we headed off to?"
"We're staying at a hotel in Cannes but for fuck's sake, I can't remember the name." Tony rubbed on his temple, gaze trained outside his window.
Steve lifted an eyebrow. "Can't you call Pepper and ask?" Then a thought hit him like a ton of bricks. "Why did you call me to pick you up instead of calling Pepper or any of your companions?"
It took a while for Tony to stir, to respond. His eyes sparkled as if it held so many secrets and when he spoke, it was with overt honesty. "I wanted to see you."
Damn. Those five words did things to Steve that he had to keep a firmer grip on the steering wheel, lest he would drive them off the path. "Jeez, Tony. Don't say things like that. I might end up pulling over and have my way with you at the back seat of my car."
"Why don't you then?" The flirtatious way Tony spoke was testing Steve's willpower, driving him off the brink and Steve could feel the beginnings of an irrepressible arousal boiling hot inside him.
When Tony laid a hand on Steve's thigh, thumb stroking languidly at first then with a bit of pressure, Steve threw all caution to the wind. "Okay. Okay, fine." His limbs were shaking. "Fine. I'm taking you home."
Steve's house wasn't that huge, compared to Tony's mansion in New York. But it was considerably big for just one man, even though Steve said he has a house sitter slash housekeeper with him.
"Are you hungry?" Steve asked, taking his jacket off to reveal the muscles bulging out of his polo shirt. "I can ask Ynez to fix us a sandwich or something."
"Yeah. That… that sounds good." Tony watched Steve disappear through an open archway, calling out for someone named Ynez, probably his house sitter. When he returned a minute later, Tony asked, "This your house? So you live here in France?"
"This is my grandfather's winter house, actually." Steve led him to the living room, tossing his jacket on the back of a wooden chair. "He passed away years ago, left me this place since I just started working on a European cruise ship back then."
"You're American though, right?"
"Born and raised. My parents were Irish immigrants though." There was a small bar in the corner where Steve puttered around, brought out a bottle and looked over his shoulder. "Care for a drink?"
Tony huffed, amused. "Let me guess. Burgundy wine?"
"You know me well enough," Steve said with a shrug.
"Give me whatever you're having."
They talked for a while, ate, and had a few more wine then Tony felt the effects of exhaustion like his bones were being melted and turned into rubber. He tried to suppress a yawn to no avail and Steve chuckled, low and soft, asked, "Tired?" while kneading on Tony's shoulder. It felt good, felt so good that Tony started leaning on Steve's touch.
"Yeah," Tony said with a groan. "Yeah."
"C'mon." Steve brought Tony to his room, much larger – thrice the size even – than the one Steve has on the ship.
"Nice." Tony dropped on the bed face first, mind clinging on the edge of consciousness but he was falling… falling slowly to the surface of slumber. His cheek was pressed on the pillow and he caught Steve's scent, musky and manly and arousing.
"I can give you a massage, if you want," Steve said, voice sounded so entrancing. "Why don't you take off your shoes so you can lie properly on your stomach?"
Tony didn't bother to move from his spot, just toed off his shoes and listened to the telltale thump it made when it hit the floor. Then he felt Steve's large and strong hands on his legs then on his thighs, kneading and pressing and stroking and oh… oh, feels good.
Steve was probably some kind of a miracle healer because he certainly knew which spots needed more attention, where to put more pressure, where to just rub and where to squeeze. Tony felt like he was in heaven. Any remnants of the fatigue that had been killing his muscles evaporated into a loose numbness.
"Don't fall asleep on me," he heard Steve say… or at least that was what it sounded like and Tony hummed in response, must have said a word or two but he was too far on his way into the slumber country, mind losing grasp to consciousness, so he wasn't sure if those were coherent phrases that came out of his mouth.
"Sure thing," were the last words Steve heard from Tony before the sound of soft whistling rolled out through his parted lips.
Steve sat there for a while, perched on the edge of his bed, while watching Tony sleep. Something unfurled in his chest – something he wasn't sure what to name. Fondness perhaps. Or affection.
Then he leaned over and did the sappiest thing he'd ever done in probably two years: he planted a kiss on Tony's temple.
His heart did a double flip when he realized what he'd done but he didn't back off right away, just stilled, face hovering over Tony's.
"Mr. Rogers?" Ynez's voice filtering through the closed door broke through his foolish trance. "You have a phone call, sir. It's Mr. Barton. Said he couldn't reach your mobile phone."
Shit. Steve fished out his phone from his pocket and just as he thought, his phone was off. Battery must be dead.
"Thanks Ynez. I'll be down in a few seconds," he called out while he rummaged through his bureau to look for his charger.
Once he had his phone plugged into the charger, he rushed down the stairs and straight to the living room. "Clint, sorry about that," he said when he had the receiver pressed against his ear.
"Are you with someone?" Clint said in a teasing tone and sometimes Steve couldn't help but wonder if his friend was psychic or something.
Steve's answering silence must have given Clint a hint because he made a sound as if someone had grabbed his throat, then Clint clucked his tongue. "You bastard. Did you actually go seek out that Mafia guy?"
"He's not a Mafia guy. He's just…" Just what, exactly? "…just a guy. No. I mean, he's an awesome man. He doesn't need to carry that tag along with him."
"So he is with you." It wasn't a question, more like a statement, and the incredulity was palpable in Clint's voice. "You be careful, okay, Steve? You don't know how these men are."
Steve's mind went swirling to a thousand directions. "It's not like that. I mean, I don't know. What… Crap! Why did you call anyway?"
Soft laughter rumbled through the earpiece. "I'm just calling to let you know that the schedule of departure was moved to Tuesday. They've been trying to contact you for the past hour. Don't get too distracted, Steve."
"I won't." I won't. Or he hoped he wouldn't.
Clint's warnings haunted him for the next hour or so. He probably spent half an hour brooding in his study, nursing a glass of Pinot Noir.
Tony was just waking up when Steve returned to his room. Steve's breath got caught in his throat because the man was quite a sight: dark hair attractively disheveled, eyes droopy, the soft yellow glow from the wall lamp bathing his olive skin and his shirt riding up his waist to reveal his toned up abdomen.
Just like that, any guarded morale Steve possessed vanished in thin air. He had to have this man once more, had to have this man underneath him – perhaps over him, riding him. He didn't care how. All he wanted was to take Tony, to taste Tony Stark again.
There was something in Steve's eyes – the hunger, the need, the want – and the way Steve looked at him broke Tony's reservations.
He wasn't usually trustworthy, not with the environment he grew up in, but with Steve… with Steve, everything seemed simple and safe.
"Hey," Tony said, voice still laced with sleep.
"Sleep well?" Steve approached the bed like some animal ready to pounce his prey.
"Yeah." Tony had to swallow the lump lodged his throat. He never expected to find the mere sight of a gorgeous man so arousing. "I just. Can I have a drink?"
"Sure." Steve's mouth descended on his and Tony can taste the sweet and earthy flavor of Burgundy wine on Steve's lips – on Steve's tongue – and it was more intoxicating than actually ingesting it. "Still want that drink?" Steve asked when he pulled away, casting Tony with a conniving smile that sent chills up Tony's spine.
Tony grabbed the front of Steve's shirt and pulled him back, closed his mouth over Steve's in a bruising kiss. When they parted, Tony said, "A glass of water would be divine," and Steve laughed, low and sultry that made Tony tremble.
"Sure." Steve went over to a small fridge and returned with a green bottle in his hand. He handed it Tony, said, "All I have is Perrier," and once Tony had downed half of the contents, Steve took the bottle from his hand and placed it on the bedside table. "Where were we? Oh." His mouth is on Tony in a flash, giving Tony no time to brace himself so Tony fell back on the bed with Steve climbing on top of him.
It was futile to even try and put up a fight. Tony wanted this, craved for this. This was all he could think of for the past three days. He bucked his hips up, seeking contact, wanting to feel Steve's body pressed against him.
And Steve wasn't one to disappoint. The weight of Steve was on him, their bodies merging. Chest to chest. Stomach to stomach. Thighs to thighs. Tony could feel Steve's erection rubbing against his own, creating delicious friction despite the fabric of their jeans in the way.
It wasn't enough though. Tony wanted more, wanted to feel skin against skin. Desperately, he pulled at the hem of Steve's shirt and Steve sat on his haunches to pull it over his head, unbuckle his belt and undo the button and zipper of his jeans.
Tony mirrored him, almost tearing his sweater off in his haste, denims scraping against his thighs in his frantic move to slip it off.
Soon, they were both divested off their clothing, Steve tossing his boxers aside while Tony kicked off his own.
His body hummed when Steve's sucked on his left clavicle, the pressure no doubt would leave a mark and Tony was so lost in the sensation he didn't even have time to consider the possible consequences. His mind was screaming, take me, make me yours, and he was drowning in pleasure, sounds he never thought he could make scraping out of his throat.
"Steve," he said, the name blowing out of his lips like a night breeze.
The fingers deftly entering him, stretching him made his body quiver, fingers digging into Steve's flesh. So lost. So lost that Tony hadn't realized Steve's head had moved south until he felt the warmth of Steve's mouth on his cock, sucking and tonguing and driving him insane.
Tony couldn’t stop his hips from snapping up to drive his erection further into Steve's throat. Wanting more. Needing more.
When Steve released his cock, he felt a wave of disappointment and frustration but those feelings quickly left him when he felt something wet and velvety press against his… Fuck!… against his entrance.
Steve's fingers slid out of him only to be replaced with Steve's tongue, prodding the ring of muscle that cause a wild string of frissons coursing through his body.
More. He wanted more. Tony could feel his lips moving but he wasn't sure if he was able to form words, words he meant to say. His fingers that were buried in Steve's blond locks closed in on a tighter grip.
It felt like he was in some sort of suspended animation and he didn't realize right away that Steve had halted. When he no longer felt the glorious sensation of Steve's tongue on his entrance, he lifted his head to find Steve easing a condom on his erection.
Tony's cock twitched at the sight and he couldn't take his eyes off of Steve even as Steve pushed into him, filling him. The slow, gentle thrust drove Tony mad. He clung on Steve's biceps, eyes piercing right through Steve's. "Do it," Tony growled. "Faster."
That one command must have pushed the right button. Steve soon pummeled into him with such force that it stung but Tony ignored the discomfort and just… just enjoyed the ride.
Not long after, Tony could feel all of his blood rushing down his groin. Before his hand could slide over to his cock though, Steve clasped on it and started pumping, thumb rubbing the tip, putting pressure on the right spots until every cell in Tony's body vibrated and he was hurled into a blinding orgasm.
Steve came almost at the same time, pushing deeper and deeper and Tony could feel the tremors that resonated off of Steve.
"I have to…," Tony said, lifting his phone.
"Yeah sure." Steve knew what he meant. Tony had to call his wife. And Tony didn't really have to like… ask for Steve's permission. As if Steve had a right to stop him. Tony had to anyway, had to let Pepper know he was fine.
Steve knew it was impolite to listen to someone else's conversation and that he should slink away. But he didn't. Couldn't. So Steve remained on the bed, inadvertently hearing every word Tony said, heard Tony utter, "I can't believe you didn't even notice I wasn't in the fucking van," in a hushed but angry tone until Tony glided toward the farther corner of the room, voice evanescing to almost a whisper.
"So," Tony said after a while, tossing his phone on the nightstand. He climbed on the bed, just close to the edge. "Apparently, we're staying at Le Grand." A look of defeat crossed Tony's face. "I should head there this morning before Pepper sends out a search party. They've been looking for me since yesterday. Can you imagine? She said they only noticed I wasn't in the van when they were almost at Cannes. How stupid is that?"
"Okay," Steve conceded, though the word tasted like ash in his mouth. "Okay. I'll drive you there. But can we do that after breakfast?"
There was a huge part of him that wanted to ask Tony to stay – perhaps just for another day, or a couple, or maybe, forever – which was stupid because. And… and he shouldn't be clinging to someone, married or not. His life was at sea. He just couldn't have someone waiting for him on land all the time.
"Sure. After breakfast. Maybe even after…" Tony's hand traveled up Steve's thigh, squeezing suggestively, "you know."
Steve's cock jumped in response. Damn. This was so wrong. So wrong. Because this? This was clearly an affair.
After a quick breakfast and a round of romping on his bed, Steve drove Tony all the way to Cannes. His heart felt like it was pumping liquid nitrogen instead of blood and whatever this feeling was crawling through his chest sucked, really, really sucked.
There was an army of casually-dressed men that were no doubt part of Tony's gang waiting at the entrance of Le Grand Hotel when they arrived. Steve guessed that the informal clothes were supposed to make them less inconspicuous but it wasn't working.
"Mr. Stark," the dark-skinned one said. Steve was quick to presume this was the head of Tony's team of bodyguards. "Miss Potts—I mean, Mrs. Stark has been waiting for you."
"I called her, told her what time I was coming, didn't I?" Tony snapped and made a beeline straight to the lobby.
Steve wasn't sure what to do, wasn't sure if he should just hop back in his car and drive away or if he should follow Tony.
A valet parking attendant came up to him, said, "Sir?" and Steve took that as his cue. He tossed the key to the hotel employee and breezed after Tony and his men.
Tony was standing just outside the elevator with one of his men holding the door open and he smiled when he caught sight of Steve. "He's with me, Nick. He's a friend," he said when the leader-looking bodyguard held out an arm to stop Steve.
As soon as they stepped into Tony's suite, Tony was swallowed into a commotion of bodyguards and family members who barraged him with questions like where the hell he had been and what took him so long to return.
Steve slunk away, melting against the wall and feeling like a useless outsider. He could hear Tony, but couldn't decipher what the man was saying because of all the noise.
Pepper was all over Tony, doting on him and reprimanding him all the same. And Tony… Tony seemed to have forgotten all about Steve.
This wasn't his place anymore so Steve slowly ambled outside the suite, leaving Tony to his wife, to his family, to his world.
He had one foot inside the lift when he heard Tony yell, "Steve, wait!" so he looked over his shoulder to find Tony rushing after him.
"Where are you going? Why did you leave?" Tony sounded painfully disappointed. "I was going to introduce you to—"
"It's okay, Tony. There's no need. Why don't you go back inside?"
"No. Wait." Tony hopped into the lift after Steve. "What are you…? I mean, what's going on? I thought we're friends."
Friends? Steve did his best not to scoff. "It's complicated," skips out of his mouth and he could see the frown forming on Tony's forehead through the corner of his eye.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Tony spat.
Steve wasn't sure how to explain it. He didn't even know what was going through his head. And his heart. And… Damn! "This." He slammed his mouth against Tony's, pushing Tony against the elevator's wall.
Tony's jaw slackens, lips parting, so Steve pushes his tongue into Tony's waiting mouth, tasting and devouring and hoping that this was enough to express the weight sitting heavily in his chest.
The soft ding vaguely reached Steve's ears but he didn't let go, just kept Tony pressed against the wall, his hand wandering down Tony's crotch. Only when he heard someone gasp did Steve tear his mouth away from Tony's.
An old woman was standing outside, hand on her chest, her mouth slightly open. "Oh," she said, eyes springing between Steve and Tony.
Tony's face turned a deep shade of red, the blush creeping all the way to the tip of his ears. He stormed out of the elevator with Steve in his shadow. "Fuck!" Colorful curses spilled out of Tony's mouth. "Fuck!" He grabbed a fistful of his dark hair and spun around to face Steve. "What were you thinking, Steve? What if… what if that was one of my family members who saw us? What if it was my dad? What if it was my wife? I have a wife, Steve! Damn it!"
It wasn't the outburst or the words Tony had thrown at him, but the hint of betrayal glimmering on Tony's eyes that felt much like a hard slap across Steve's face.
Steve had to take a step back, contemplating whether to raise his defenses or just… just walk away and forget this ever happened.
"You know what?" Tony had his hands raised in surrender. "Forget everything," were the last words Tony said before disappearing inside the elevator.
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