(MCU) Beg To Filth
September 6th, 2015 20:38![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salmon_pinkTitle: Beg To Filth
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Tony/Steve
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1446
Timeline: Avengers: Age Of Ultron
Notes: Spoilers for Avengers: Age Of Ultron. Dirty talk. For![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo, prompt "begging", and a prompt at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
avengerkink.
Summary: Okay, so Tony's the one who started those jokes about Steve not liking cursing. He's regretting it pretty spectacularly, though. Because every joke reminds him just how dirty Steve's mouth can be when they're in private, the big star-spangled hypocrite.
Tony doesn’t actually mean for it to be a thing. It’s just that his mouth likes to get away from him and, after all, when has he ever passed up an opportunity to tease Steve?
If anyone asks, that’s all about giving Steve a hard time, keeping Captain America grounded. It’s definitely not about that fond smile Steve gets over the Avengers’ easy banter, how he never minds being the butt of the joke, how the camaraderie clearly makes him feel at home.
Tony’s not sappy or anything, honest.
So he makes that crack about Steve admonishing him over his language, and the other Avengers, being the absolute shits they are, take it and run with it. Which Tony kind of loves, because he’s the biggest shit of them all. But, yeah, it wasn’t actually supposed to be thing.
Because every time someone makes a comment about Steve and cursing, Tony gets a little hot under the Iron Man suit, and isn’t that embarrassing, that everyone is getting on Steve’s case, yet Tony’s the one squirming.
He lasts it out. He does have some patience, despite all evidence to the contrary. Plus there’s that whole whoops-I-created-a-killer-robot thing to deal with, which is enough to put a damper on anyone’s libido.
Tony endures every jibe about swearing aimed at Steve, feeling his heartbeat pick up every time, heat in his stomach.
And when the world is safe once again? That’s when he pounces.
Door barely closed, and Tony isn’t impressed with the room they’ve thrown together for him here at the compound, but it has a bed so it’ll more than do for what he has in mind. Hand fisted in Steve’s t-shirt, yanking him down, because the guy is stupidly tall. And as fun as it is to climb him, Tony doesn’t have the patience right now.
Steve grins against his mouth, so Tony bites his lip, good and mean.
They half-walk, half-stumble across the room and, okay, maybe the stumbling is all on Tony. Kicking off his trousers, Steve’s hand at his shoulder steadying him, and by the time they collapse against the mattress, there’s only a white t-shirt, a pair of boxer briefs, and a single sock between them. Which join the rest of their clothes on the floor in short order.
Tony runs his hands over Steve’s ridiculous chest, digs his nails in and scratches nasty for the way it always makes Steve’s back arch beneath him. “Spread your legs, gorgeous.” Murmured into the skin of Steve’s neck, which makes him snort at the pet-name, but Steve does as he’s told.
Tony settles into the space between Steve’s thighs, and that just makes Steve spread even wider, fucking shameless with it, smirking in that particular way that always makes Tony want to go fast fast fast.
But that isn’t the plan here. Steve Rogers can just lie his ass back and wait, because Tony’s been so damn patient, but now he’s got Steve like this, he’s got intentions.
All those jokes about Steve hating people cursing running through his mind as he reaches for the lube, getting his fingers nice and shiny. But when he pushes in, it’s only with one, never mind that he knows Steve can take more, that there’s no need to take his time.
He just wants to.
Steve eyes are narrowed, breathing through his nose. “You’re gonna be a jerk about this, aren’t you?” he asks, voice a little raspy, pupils dilating at Tony gets a hand on his chest and pushes him down.
“When am I not a jerk?” Tony shoots back. Hairline already prickling with sweat, because Steve feels warm and soft around his finger, and when he curls it a little he gets Steve’s breath stuttering and a pissy little glare.
Which is just what he’s aiming for.
“You could hurry me up,” Tony offers conversationally, voice some version of calm even though his heart is pounding and he wants that velvet heat around his cock yesterday. Grazing the pad of his finger over Steve’s prostate when he doesn’t get an immediate response, and Steve grunts and shifts, feet moving over the sheets.
“What do you want?” Steve asks. Looking at Tony like he can’t decide whether he’ll give him nothing just for the sake of being stubborn, or if he’ll give him everything Tony ever asks for and more.
Tony shows him a smile that’s some weird hybrid of sweet and evil. “You could beg for it,” he says simply, and Steve clenches up tight around his finger in response.
Tony just barely resists the urge to leer.
Steve laughs, but it’s strained, already breathless. “Is this about the cursing thing?” he tries, and Tony rewards him by shoving in with three fingers and no warning whatsoever.
Feeling his dick twitch as Steve’s head snaps back, prettiest flush down his chest, hands grasping at the bedclothes. Because yes, this is about the damn cursing.
This is all about the damn cursing.
“C’’mon,” he growls, putting a flashy twist into his wrist. No preamble, just fucking into Steve nice and hard, nice and deep, and Steve’s eyes are getting glassy as he stares at the ceiling, mouth fallen open. “C’mon, beg for it.”
“Stark,” Steve manages, and it’s probably supposed to be a warning, but it comes out way too distracted. Makes Tony need to bite down on the inside of Steve’s knee, which gets him a lovely little gasp.
“Beg,” Tony hisses, spreading his fingers against Steve’s rim at the top of every thrust.
“Do it,” Steve moans, eyelashes fluttering, body undulating beneath the palm Tony still has on his chest. “Do it, please! C’mon, fuck, Tony!”
It’s like music to Tony’s ears.
“What do you want?” Tony goads, pushing him thumb up hard against Steve’s perineum.
“Your cock, you bastard,” Steve snaps, hips twisting for more. “Want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”
There it is, there’s the reason Tony’s been squirming for all those jokes. Because Steve is a hypocrite, a beautiful hypocrite with a shockingly, perfectly filthy mouth, and every comment Tony’s had to endure about Steve hating swearing has only served to remind him how much Steve actually loves it.
“C’mon, baby, tell me more.” Getting up on his knees so he can put more weight into the roll of his shoulder, and Steve’s so hard he’s leaking all over himself, one hand bracing against the headboard so he can fuck himself back on Tony’s fingers.
“Shit, I need it, need you inside me, need -” Steve whines, breaks off to bite his lip as Tony goes for his prostate again. “Feels so right, you moving, pounding into me.”
God, that mouth is going to be the end of Tony, it’ll listed on his damn death certificate. Cause of death: dirty talk, care of Steve Rogers.
“When you’ve got me going so good I can’t even breathe,” Steve’s babbling. “Want it so much, thinking about it everyday, thinking about you using me -”
“Yeah?” Tony interrupts, panting ragged as he works Steve more and more open. “Like what?”
Steve makes a frustrated noise, free hand wrapping around Tony’s wrist above his chest. “Thinking about choking myself on your dick,” he admits. “Getting on my knees and sucking you off in front of everyone.”
Tony nods mindlessly, tongue running over him bottom lip. “Should make you,” he grunts. “Make you beg for it in front of the others, let them hear the way you talk for me.”
Steve’s smile makes Tony’s cock pulse. “Thought my mouth was just for you,” he murmurs, squeezing Tony’s wrist with his long fingers. “Thought you liked it, that nobody knows the things you make me say.”
Tony barks out a laugh at that. “Rogers, I couldn’t make you do jack-shit, even if I tried.”
When Steve starts laughing too, that’s when Tony starts hammering his prostate in earnest, and Steve presses his face to his arm, eyes falling shut, lips parted and swallowing at the air.
“Tell me more,” Tony demands, and his arm is burning with how deep he’s fingering Steve now, how brutal.
“Will you let me come if I do?” Steve says, the perfect mix of playful and needy.
Tony grins, slowing down his movements for the way it makes Steve whimper, trying to chase his fingers. “Maybe if you beg pretty enough.”
Steve starts laughing again, croaky and shaky. Tony wastes no time turning it into a groan and a whole string of cursing.
“Language,” he taunts, before making Steve’s eyes roll back in his head.
After all, when has he ever passed up an opportunity to tease Steve?
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Tony/Steve
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1446
Timeline: Avengers: Age Of Ultron
Notes: Spoilers for Avengers: Age Of Ultron. Dirty talk. For
kink_bingo, prompt "begging", and a prompt at avengerkink.Summary: Okay, so Tony's the one who started those jokes about Steve not liking cursing. He's regretting it pretty spectacularly, though. Because every joke reminds him just how dirty Steve's mouth can be when they're in private, the big star-spangled hypocrite.
Tony doesn’t actually mean for it to be a thing. It’s just that his mouth likes to get away from him and, after all, when has he ever passed up an opportunity to tease Steve?
If anyone asks, that’s all about giving Steve a hard time, keeping Captain America grounded. It’s definitely not about that fond smile Steve gets over the Avengers’ easy banter, how he never minds being the butt of the joke, how the camaraderie clearly makes him feel at home.
Tony’s not sappy or anything, honest.
So he makes that crack about Steve admonishing him over his language, and the other Avengers, being the absolute shits they are, take it and run with it. Which Tony kind of loves, because he’s the biggest shit of them all. But, yeah, it wasn’t actually supposed to be thing.
Because every time someone makes a comment about Steve and cursing, Tony gets a little hot under the Iron Man suit, and isn’t that embarrassing, that everyone is getting on Steve’s case, yet Tony’s the one squirming.
He lasts it out. He does have some patience, despite all evidence to the contrary. Plus there’s that whole whoops-I-created-a-killer-robot thing to deal with, which is enough to put a damper on anyone’s libido.
Tony endures every jibe about swearing aimed at Steve, feeling his heartbeat pick up every time, heat in his stomach.
And when the world is safe once again? That’s when he pounces.
Door barely closed, and Tony isn’t impressed with the room they’ve thrown together for him here at the compound, but it has a bed so it’ll more than do for what he has in mind. Hand fisted in Steve’s t-shirt, yanking him down, because the guy is stupidly tall. And as fun as it is to climb him, Tony doesn’t have the patience right now.
Steve grins against his mouth, so Tony bites his lip, good and mean.
They half-walk, half-stumble across the room and, okay, maybe the stumbling is all on Tony. Kicking off his trousers, Steve’s hand at his shoulder steadying him, and by the time they collapse against the mattress, there’s only a white t-shirt, a pair of boxer briefs, and a single sock between them. Which join the rest of their clothes on the floor in short order.
Tony runs his hands over Steve’s ridiculous chest, digs his nails in and scratches nasty for the way it always makes Steve’s back arch beneath him. “Spread your legs, gorgeous.” Murmured into the skin of Steve’s neck, which makes him snort at the pet-name, but Steve does as he’s told.
Tony settles into the space between Steve’s thighs, and that just makes Steve spread even wider, fucking shameless with it, smirking in that particular way that always makes Tony want to go fast fast fast.
But that isn’t the plan here. Steve Rogers can just lie his ass back and wait, because Tony’s been so damn patient, but now he’s got Steve like this, he’s got intentions.
All those jokes about Steve hating people cursing running through his mind as he reaches for the lube, getting his fingers nice and shiny. But when he pushes in, it’s only with one, never mind that he knows Steve can take more, that there’s no need to take his time.
He just wants to.
Steve eyes are narrowed, breathing through his nose. “You’re gonna be a jerk about this, aren’t you?” he asks, voice a little raspy, pupils dilating at Tony gets a hand on his chest and pushes him down.
“When am I not a jerk?” Tony shoots back. Hairline already prickling with sweat, because Steve feels warm and soft around his finger, and when he curls it a little he gets Steve’s breath stuttering and a pissy little glare.
Which is just what he’s aiming for.
“You could hurry me up,” Tony offers conversationally, voice some version of calm even though his heart is pounding and he wants that velvet heat around his cock yesterday. Grazing the pad of his finger over Steve’s prostate when he doesn’t get an immediate response, and Steve grunts and shifts, feet moving over the sheets.
“What do you want?” Steve asks. Looking at Tony like he can’t decide whether he’ll give him nothing just for the sake of being stubborn, or if he’ll give him everything Tony ever asks for and more.
Tony shows him a smile that’s some weird hybrid of sweet and evil. “You could beg for it,” he says simply, and Steve clenches up tight around his finger in response.
Tony just barely resists the urge to leer.
Steve laughs, but it’s strained, already breathless. “Is this about the cursing thing?” he tries, and Tony rewards him by shoving in with three fingers and no warning whatsoever.
Feeling his dick twitch as Steve’s head snaps back, prettiest flush down his chest, hands grasping at the bedclothes. Because yes, this is about the damn cursing.
This is all about the damn cursing.
“C’’mon,” he growls, putting a flashy twist into his wrist. No preamble, just fucking into Steve nice and hard, nice and deep, and Steve’s eyes are getting glassy as he stares at the ceiling, mouth fallen open. “C’mon, beg for it.”
“Stark,” Steve manages, and it’s probably supposed to be a warning, but it comes out way too distracted. Makes Tony need to bite down on the inside of Steve’s knee, which gets him a lovely little gasp.
“Beg,” Tony hisses, spreading his fingers against Steve’s rim at the top of every thrust.
“Do it,” Steve moans, eyelashes fluttering, body undulating beneath the palm Tony still has on his chest. “Do it, please! C’mon, fuck, Tony!”
It’s like music to Tony’s ears.
“What do you want?” Tony goads, pushing him thumb up hard against Steve’s perineum.
“Your cock, you bastard,” Steve snaps, hips twisting for more. “Want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”
There it is, there’s the reason Tony’s been squirming for all those jokes. Because Steve is a hypocrite, a beautiful hypocrite with a shockingly, perfectly filthy mouth, and every comment Tony’s had to endure about Steve hating swearing has only served to remind him how much Steve actually loves it.
“C’mon, baby, tell me more.” Getting up on his knees so he can put more weight into the roll of his shoulder, and Steve’s so hard he’s leaking all over himself, one hand bracing against the headboard so he can fuck himself back on Tony’s fingers.
“Shit, I need it, need you inside me, need -” Steve whines, breaks off to bite his lip as Tony goes for his prostate again. “Feels so right, you moving, pounding into me.”
God, that mouth is going to be the end of Tony, it’ll listed on his damn death certificate. Cause of death: dirty talk, care of Steve Rogers.
“When you’ve got me going so good I can’t even breathe,” Steve’s babbling. “Want it so much, thinking about it everyday, thinking about you using me -”
“Yeah?” Tony interrupts, panting ragged as he works Steve more and more open. “Like what?”
Steve makes a frustrated noise, free hand wrapping around Tony’s wrist above his chest. “Thinking about choking myself on your dick,” he admits. “Getting on my knees and sucking you off in front of everyone.”
Tony nods mindlessly, tongue running over him bottom lip. “Should make you,” he grunts. “Make you beg for it in front of the others, let them hear the way you talk for me.”
Steve’s smile makes Tony’s cock pulse. “Thought my mouth was just for you,” he murmurs, squeezing Tony’s wrist with his long fingers. “Thought you liked it, that nobody knows the things you make me say.”
Tony barks out a laugh at that. “Rogers, I couldn’t make you do jack-shit, even if I tried.”
When Steve starts laughing too, that’s when Tony starts hammering his prostate in earnest, and Steve presses his face to his arm, eyes falling shut, lips parted and swallowing at the air.
“Tell me more,” Tony demands, and his arm is burning with how deep he’s fingering Steve now, how brutal.
“Will you let me come if I do?” Steve says, the perfect mix of playful and needy.
Tony grins, slowing down his movements for the way it makes Steve whimper, trying to chase his fingers. “Maybe if you beg pretty enough.”
Steve starts laughing again, croaky and shaky. Tony wastes no time turning it into a groan and a whole string of cursing.
“Language,” he taunts, before making Steve’s eyes roll back in his head.
After all, when has he ever passed up an opportunity to tease Steve?
