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There was nothing finer than looking up at Tony, straddling Bucky’s thighs, glistening with sweat, each muscle outlined with golden candlelight, as Bucky very slowly pushed up into that heat. They had the penthouse to themselves, all the kids were gone, and half of the Avengers with them. With relative privacy and the assurance of no interruptions, Bucky had taken his husband to bed, with the intentions of staying there for most of the evening.
Tony raised up, then rolled his hips as he sank back down, shuddering with the sensation. He put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders to change the angle and rocked again, humming with the shifting position. “Article in today’s People says you’re not in love with me anymore,” he mentioned.
Bucky choked and spluttered, then groaned as that changed the way they were fitting together. “Tony, I am literally balls deep in your ass right now,” he pointed out. He flexed his hips, fingers gripping Tony’s thighs. He clenched his jaw in an effort not to spill over right away; his dick often seemed to have an urge to make a point, somehow.
“Mm, yeah, I noticed that.” Tony dug his toes into the mattress for balance and pushed back onto Bucky’s cock even harder than before. “But do you still like me?”
Bucky slid an arm around Tony’s back and before he could protest, rolled them over until he was on top, sliding even deeper with each thrust, as if he could permanently become one with his husband. He leaned in, until his mouth was hovering mere millimeters away from Tony’s. Until speaking brushed their lips together. “I am so into you, baby,” Bucky said, “that nothin’ gonna pull me out.” He demonstrated, by way of pushing Tony’s knees back until they were practically touching his ears.
Tony’s breath caught and his hands clenched in the sheets. “Glad to h-hear it,” he groaned. “Oh, Christ, yes, right there, more.”
“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, rocking with him, stroking Tony with each heartbeat, kissing him thoroughly. He was going to come quicker; driving down into Tony’s lithe, beautiful body always drove him wild. “You know I love you.” He balanced on the metal arm, getting a hand between them to tease Tony’s dick. “Don’t you?”
“Course I do,” Tony panted. “‘M just sayin, the press is at us again. And you know-- oh! Oh, yeah, sweetheart, just like that -- you know what it means when that happens.”
Bucky almost snarled; settled for purring in Tony’s ear, instead. “Means some stupid, mislead idiots with delusions of adequacy are gonna come crawlin’ out of the woodwork, hopin’ for a bite of Tony Stark.” He nipped at Tony’s throat, down to worry at Tony’s collarbone, sucking up a red mark. He ran his thumb back and forth over the crown of Tony’s cock, smearing precome around.
“God, it should not be so hot when you get possessive,” Tony swore. “You know I don’t want anyone else, baby.”
“I know,” Bucky said, and he did, he knew that. Tony had never even had to prove himself to Bucky; they’d held each other’s lives and hearts and heads since they practically met. He didn’t have doubts. “Jus’ don’t like ‘em circling around you like blowflies. You’re not someone’s prize.” He sucked in a breath, thrust in, and twisted his wrist at the same time. “You’re mine.”
Tony threw his head back on a cry and came, spilling over Bucky’s fist to splash across his stomach. “Yours,” he gasped. “Always.” He reached up to curl his fingers into Bucky’s hair. “And you’re mine. Moy soldat.”
Bucky arched, that squeeze and heat, so perfect… he gasped for air, everything clenching down, and then-- “Oh, god.” Deep and molten and shivering, Bucky let it go, pleasure zipping from nerve to nerve as he came, crying Tony’s name. He chased after his breath for a bit, heart throbbing painfully in his chest, practically squashing Tony while he recovered his wits.
“Do I like you,” Bucky said, rolling over and spreading out over as much of the bed as he could get, trying to cool down. “What idiocy. Of course I like you. Like you, love you, want you, need you. Everything. All of it. There aren’t even words.”
Tony sighed in satisfaction. “We might have to put on a show for the press again,” he said. “Since it seems to be a slow news week.”
Bucky rolled up onto his elbow. “What a hardship.”
***
Really, as Tony got older, you’d think the number of people trying to hit on him would decrease. Sure, he was pretty fit for his age, still a billionaire, still a celebrity superhero, and there were always going to be people who found that attractive; Tony had long since resigned himself to the occasional offer from a fan with little to lose. But since the latest round of the gossip rags proclaiming that Tony and Bucky were going to call it quits Any Day Now, it seemed every third person he met was trying to get into his pants.
Bucky hadn’t even left Tony’s side for five minutes at the last event they’d been at before some society darling had pressed up against Tony’s side and offered to help him through those lonely nights.
Honestly, the woman was lucky that Bucky had only flayed her with words on his return; Tony was pretty certain he’d been mentally doing much worse.
Tony didn’t know where the gossip sites got their speculation from. It’s not like they’d stopped being affectionate with each other -- the kids were forever complaining about it, actually. Which only made them do it more, because it was funny. But apparently, that was too subtle. They were going to have to take things a little bit farther to get the message across.
Bucky, who normally contained himself to shooting at bad guys, and the occasional knife fight when one got too close, switched it up a bit and picked up one of the Not-Quite-Doombots (Tony didn’t know what they were, but they weren’t Doom’s robots, those things were dangerous, these were more like knock-off, dollar store bots. Annoying, clunky, and prone to malfunctions. The Avengers were only called in because there were so many of them) and threw it.
The ‘bot crashed into a nearby coffee shop and sent patrons screaming away. The way Bucky glared at the shop, without paying the least bit attention to the scrap metal he’d just failed to recycle, made Tony wonder if the collateral damage was a little more directed than usual.
But that was the last one. Nothing was still standing that wasn’t wearing signature colors (and the bystanders, who were by-fleers). Bucky took two running steps, hit a park bench, and leaped, getting an arm around Tony and practically tackling him to the ground. It was a good thing Tony had all sorts of shock resistance built into the armor. As it was, the fall jolted his breath out of him and Bucky thumbed the helmet’s release and was kissing him before Tony could recover his air.
“Mph--” Tony tried to say, then gave up and kissed his husband. It was shorter than usual, because air was a thing, and Tony hadn’t started out with a full breath. “Fighting knockoff Doombots gets you hot and bothered now?” he teased.
“No,” Bucky said. He nuzzled at Tony’s jaw. “College girls daring each other to flash Iron Man when he flew by kinda pisses me off, though. That one in th’ blue shirt left her damn brassiere on the table.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “No subtlety at all,” he complained. “Think it’s time to do something about this mess?”
“Mmmm,” Bucky said. He rolled to his feet and offered Tony a hand up. Steve was squawking over comms about the cleanup. Bucky made a face, tugged his earpiece out and threw it over his shoulder. “Fight fire with fire.” He lifted Tony up, armor and all, kissed him again, like they were in some sort of romcom and the wreckage of the street was a field of flowers.
Tony returned the kiss, with interest. “Have I mentioned before how hot it is that you can manhandle me in the suit?” He grinned down at his husband.
“You an’ the suit don’t even weigh what Thor does,” Bucky said. At Tony’s dubious look, Bucky added, “we did ‘get help’ last fight. It was fun.” He turned and carried Tony right back to the coffee shop, which was abandoned and ruined. Bucky took particular pains to step on the lacy bralette laying, forgotten, on the floor. He pushed into the back office, depositing Tony on the desk and swept it clear of rubble.
“Really?” Tony asked. “This is your choice of location?” He didn’t waste any time unfolding himself from the suit. He glanced up at the security camera in the corner and shot it with an EMP blast. There was a limit to how much evidence he wanted the press to get their hands on.
“Smells better than a broom cupboard,” Bucky said with a shrug. “An’ if someone’s gettin’ naked about you in a coffee shop, it’s gonna be me.” He worked open his armor one handed. “Gonna be a quickie. Once I’m outta this shit, I don’t like t’ put it back on until it’s clean.” He licked his way into Tony’s mouth, one hand sliding down the underflight suit until he reached Tony’s hip. “But I’ll make you feel real good, baby.”
“Promises, promises,” Tony taunted, groping down the front of Bucky’s armor and generally interfering with Bucky’s attempt to get it opened, until he got his hand on Bucky’s cock. “Already hard for it? You sure it wasn’t the ‘bots?” Tony grinned impishly until Bucky growled and leaned in to kiss the smirk off his face.
“Maybe a little bit th’ ‘bots,” Bucky said. “It’s nice t’ cut loose an’ not worry about hurtin’ people.” He groaned, pushing against Tony’s hand. “Gonna be even quicker than a quickie if you keep doin’ that.”
Tony was pretty sure Bucky would be able to manage a second round if he did shoot off quick, but it was also a pretty good bet that Steve or someone else would come looking for them if they were missing too long, so they probably didn’t have time for two rounds.
Tony wasn’t completely hard yet -- he wasn’t as fast on the draw as Bucky -- but the warm press of Bucky’s body and the firm stroke of Bucky’s hand as it slipped into the suit was getting him there pretty easily. “RPF,” he murmured. “Coffee shop AU.”
“Look at you, baby,” Bucky crooned. “Love it when you’re all sweaty ‘n dishevelled.” He rubbed Tony’s shaft with the heel of his hand, fingers teasing at his balls while he taunted Tony with more kisses, his tongue flicking over Tony’s lips in quick, heated strokes.
Tony groaned and tipped his head back, tugging Bucky’s mouth toward his throat. “Oh, yeah, yes, Bucky...”
Bucky fastened his mouth on Tony’s throat, a sharp nip and flare of pain as Bucky sucked all the blood to the surface, tonguing the spot when he was done. He rutted against Tony’s thigh, hips moving urgently. He kissed Tony again, hard and quick, then pushed him a little higher on the desk until he was sitting on it, Bucky tucked in the vee of Tony’s legs. “Gonna eat you right up like an ice cream.” Bucky slid to one knee, matching actions to works and took Tony down to the root in a single motion. His mouth was a hot, slick inferno and his tongue worked at Tony’s skin with skill and agility.
“Oh Christ,” Tony gasped. Quick, indeed; there was no slow savoring here. Bucky worked him with raw, ruthless efficiency, proving just how well Bucky knew Tony’s body. He clenched his hands in Bucky’s hair, hanging on for dear life. “God, Bucky, yes...”
Bucky slid two fingers into his mouth, teasing at Tony’s cock, his tongue working in between them, then, slippery with spit, drew them back, along the crease of Tony’s thigh until he was pressing at the entrance to Tony’s body, a quick little caress and tease, circling and encouraging Tony to thrust up, into Bucky’s mouth. The noises he was making were obscene, slick and wet, moaning almost continuously.
Tony whined and pushed up into the welcoming heat of Bucky’s mouth and throat. He shuddered at the sensation, and Bucky pressed one finger into Tony’s hole, not far, just enough to stretch and burn a little. It was enough to tip him over the edge. He cursed and jerked and then came, shooting down Bucky’s throat in a warm wave.
Bucky licked and tormented him through the aftershocks, until Tony was weakly batting him away, overstimulated and jittery. Bucky licked at his lip, his mouth red and swollen and used looking, face pink, hair sticking to his forehead. “You are utterly, utterly wrecked, babydoll,” Bucky said, smug jerk that he was.
“You’re not much better,” Tony retorted. He gingerly tucked himself back into his undersuit. “Do I get a turn at wrecking you next?”
“Yeah,” Bucky said, eyes flashing eagerly. “Wanna feel you, baby, your nice warm skin. Got a hand for me?”
“For you, sweetheart, always.” Tony dragged his hand over Bucky’s cock, teasing a little before wrapping firmly around it. He kissed down Bucky’s neck, sucking at the skin. “Think if I work hard enough at it, I can give you a hickey that’ll last long enough for some pap to get a picture?” he wondered. He sucked a little harder, pulling the soft skin between his teeth.
Bucky groaned, pushing into the pressure of Tony’s mouth, head falling back in supplication. “Don’t know that I even care,” he said, “damn, that feels good, Tony, oh, oh, yeah, like that, baby.”
Bucky might have started their tryst as a possessive marking of territory, but once he was into it, Tony was his sole focus. It was a little humbling, sometimes, the raw, naked longing that Tony could see in Bucky’s every movement. From the way he shuddered under Tony’s hand to the savage wantonness of his cries.
“That’s it,” Tony coaxed, working his hand faster, rolling over the tip to spread precome down Bucky’s cock. “So gorgeous, so perfect for me. Come for me, sweetheart, I want to feel you coming.” He licked at Bucky’s neck, the salty tang of sweat and skin, and if he hadn’t just climaxed, he’d be getting hard again.
Bucky rolled up onto his toes, fucking up into Tony’s hand. His fingers clamped down on Tony’s shoulders and he let his mouth drop open, all the stress and worries dropping off his features until they were smooth and relaxed. His eyes fluttered shut and then, “Oh, god, Tony.” His hips stuttered, pistoning wildly, two, three strokes. A soft sigh and he arched into it, painting Tony’s belly, hip, and the thigh of his flight suit with come.
Tony stroked him through it, peppering his face and neck with kisses. “So wonderful, so beautiful,” he murmured. He nosed at Bucky’s temple, dropping a soft kiss there. “Now who’s wrecked?” he teased.
“One ‘a these days,” Bucky said, huffing out a breath, “I’m gonna make you carry me.” He shuddered, resting his forehead against Tony’s shoulder for a long moment before yanking his tactical pants back up around his hips. He tucked himself in, belted the pants, but left the shirt open, showing off his chest, and a few round, red bite marks.
Tony found some napkins to wipe up the mess and then got himself back into the armor. He left the helmet off; the tender spot on his neck where Bucky had sucked a hickey would probably show nicely, and it definitely wasn’t a combat injury. “You want me to give you a lift back up to the ‘jet?”
Bucky took a step back, his knees obviously shaky. “Yes, yes, I would like that,” he decided, firmly. “You can sit with me on th’ way back to the Tower. I don’t think we need an aerial escort today.”
“Your wish is my command.” Tony caught Bucky’s hand in his -- he couldn’t feel it through the gauntlet, but it was nice anyway -- and led the way back out into the street. He caught Bucky around the waist. “Hold on,” he said. He waved at a returning bystander, giving their cell camera a bright press smile, and then took off, Bucky’s arms twined around his neck.
“Buck, you okay?” Steve asked, as they landed in the ‘jet.
“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky said. “Just needed a hand with somethin’.”
Steve took a step forward, as if concerned, then his nostrils flared. “Buck!”
Jessica Jones, who was stripping out of her armor with very little regard for modesty, looked up. “What?”
“You can’t smell that?” Steve grimaced. “Really? Really, Buck?”
Bucky’s mouth twitched until he was forced to duck his chin to hide a wide grin and flushed cheeks. “Really.”
Tony dropped onto the bench beside his husband. “No need to get excited about it, Cap,” he said, probably more smugly than he should. “It’s just a little territory marking.”