Praise Kink with IronStrange; Tony seems to need a lot of reassurance.
(Continuing the trend of not being able to control myself when answering what are supposed to be short prompt fills…)
Hope you enjoy! Again, written on my phone so all mistakes are mine and also autocorrects.
Tony/Stephen, E, 1600 words (praise kink but also just dirty talk!)
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“Total trash,” Tony says, throwing another balled up scrap of paper across the room.
This one, Stephen notes with a raised brow, actually makes it into the small hotel room trash can, an outlier to all the scattered balls of paper littering the floor around it.
He glances back over his book at Tony and sighs. “I thought we were on vacation to, what was it you said? Clear your mind?”
“And avoid that horrible Governor’s Gala,” Tony says, meeting his glance even though he’s already scribbling something new on his fresh page.
“I don’t see how what you’re doing is any different than what you do in New York, except you’ve decided to go with paper instead of your StarkPad,” Stephen says.
Tony is slightly hunched over the desk he’s at now, completely ignoring the lush view of Bali outside of the window in front of him.
Normally Stephen can admit that Tony looks good when he’s immersed in his work, and especially when he’s being quiet — but Stephen had agreed to go on this vacation and try and enjoy time spent not saving this world or another. Which meant Stark had to stop trying to save the world with water purification tech, too.
“You’re reading some ancient wizard book, doesn’t that count as work?” Tony says.
Stephen realizes with a small jolt he was narrating out loud — Tony seems to bring out the best and worst in him, sometimes. Including an honest inner monologue that tends to escape.
Stephen shuts his book with a snap. “Fine, we’ll both stop.”
Tony tears off and crumbles up his current sheet of paper and throws it at Stephen in what Stephen takes to be a childish form of agreement.
“Now what, Doctor?” Tony asks.
Stephen rolls his eyes. “You could start by cleaning up your mess over here. Your aim is terrible, by the way.”
To Stephen’s surprise, and a little to his delight, Tony comes over and drops down to his knees on the floor to gather up his scraps of paper and throw them all into the trash can.
Tony sweeps his hands around in a sarcastic gesture after he plucks the last piece of paper from near Stephen’s foot, a little gleam in his eye that looks enough like a challenge to Stephen to bait him.
For the record, he lets himself be baited by Tony. These days, at least. At first it was hard not to fall into arguments and traded quips whenever he was in Tony’s presence. At some point they went from thinly veiled annoyance to seeking each other out to trade insults like fifth graders with a crush and now — well, now they’re on a mutually agreed upon vacation. Funny how that works.
Stephen sets his book on the table. “Done already? See, was that hard?”
“Next time I’ll practice my aim with your face,” Tony says, though any threat is lost by the fact he’s still on his knees on the floor.
“If you say so,” Stephen says, as he spreads his legs into a more relaxed position in his chair. “In the meantime why don’t you move over here?”
Somewhat surprising is the way Tony complies without another remark, shuffling over until he’s between Stephen’s legs.
Unsurprising is the way Tony’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, or the way his eyes are suddenly hooded, his pupils darker when he looks up at Stephen.
“Good job,” Stephen says evenly, tracking the way Tony’s shoulders slump a little, relaxing.
Stephen reaches down and undoes his belt, flicks the button on his slack and then the zip. It’s perfunctory, efficient. Nothing Tony hasn’t seen Stephen do before at this point. But the way Tony is waiting patiently between Stephen’s thighs, on the floor and watching, makes it feel more like a show, a tease, and Stephen is half-hard already.
He may be confident in his own power, his own abilities, but Tony Stark on his knees in a lavish hotel suite and expensive button down, waiting compliantly and without a word for Stephen to pull his cock out, is enough to make Stephen momentarily question his place in the universe.
The way Tony’s mouth closes around the head, all wet warm heat and eager suction is enough to bring him back down to their current plane and recognize this is where he’s meant to be right now.
“This feels like a better use of our time,” Stephen says.
He positions one hand around the base of his cock, angling it better for Tony to take him deeper, and the other hand lightly around the back of Tony’s head.
Tony groans, low and soft around Stephen’s cock at that. Stephen isn’t using any pressure, not even attempting to guide Tony’s head, and yet the idea that he could seems to be enough for Tony.
“That’s it,” Stephen encourages, just letting his fingers brush Tony’s scalp through his hair.
He leans back in his chair, tipping his head and closing his eyes to better enjoy just the sensations: the way Tony flicks his tongue on ever upward pass of his mouth, the way Tony’s hand is splayed over Stephen’s thigh through his slacks.
With his eyes closed he can also hear the rustle of Tony’s other hand, knows without looking that Tony is stroking his own cock, getting off on sucking Stephen and never having the patience to deny himself his own pleasure.
“You couldn’t help yourself?” Stephen asks, lazily looking down to see the way Tony’s mouth is stretching around the head of his cock, his lips trying to curl up into a smile at being caught but barely managing it around his mouth full.
“You never can,” Stephen answers for him. “Always taking what you want, what you need.”
Tony’s expression flashes to something slightly tense, maybe annoyed, and Stephen releases his own cock to stoke down the bulge of Tony’s cheek to soothe it away.
“I like it,” Stephen clarifies. “That sucking me off gets you too hard to wait, to take your time. That you have to touch yourself instead of waiting for me, even though you know I’d gladly return the favor.”
Tony hums softly in agreement, and Stephen sees the angle of his arm change, the movement of his stroke faster even as he languidly swirls his tongue over Stephen.
“Take me further, Stark,” Stephen says. “We both know you can take more than that.”
Tony’s eyes flutter shut as he shifts to accommodate the request, sucking Stephen further down his throat, velvety smooth and tight.
Stephen strokes through Tony’s hair, down his cheek. “Just like that, you’re built for this,” he praises.
“No more working,” Stephen adds, resisting the urge to loll his head back again as Tony quickens his pace, saliva dripping down to the base of Stephen’s cock now in a reflection of Tony’s enjoyment. “This is a much better use of your time, anyway. Might have to keep you like this the whole week.”
Tony moans at that, and the sound of it shoots straight down Stephen’s cock.
He’s learned recently that nothing gets him off harder than bringing Tony to incoherency. Something about getting Tony to shut up and stop thinking and working, knowing Stephen can do it just with a well placed remark and his mouth, his hands, his cock — the power of it is more heady than magic, sometimes.
“You’re just so good like this, Tony,” Stephen says. “So good at taking every inch of me.”
Tony does just that, taking Stephen to the root, this throat sliding open and pulsing around Stephen’s length as his gag reflex kicks in and his pulls back, licking and sucking at the salty precome beading out of the head. He moves his hand from Stephen’s thigh to wrap it around the rest of Stephen’s cock, too, stroking what his mouth isn’t as efficiently able to reach as he pulls Stephen closer to the edge.
“We’re in no hurry,” Stephen says, though he feels it gritty in his throat, the words almost sticking. They have days of leisure spread out before them, and Stephen is already almost ready to come, so he doesn’t have much mind to wait.
He focuses in on the way Tony’s hands are quickening on both of their cocks, slightly out of rhythm as his mouth and motion gets sloppier.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” Stephen asks, though he doesn’t need an answer. “So good at sucking cock you’re desperate about it.”
Tony pulls off with a low “fuck,” and Stephen finally increases the pressure of his hand at the back of Tony’s head, guiding him back until his mouth is too full to say anything else.
“It’s okay,” Stephen says, “you can come when I do. I’ll just take my time later, maybe teach you more patience if you can be good for me, Stark.”
Stephen feels it building, reaches down to knock Tony’s hand off his own cock so he can up the pace, raising his hips in the chair to fuck up into Tony’s mouth a little more urgently than he means to, using the soft spread of his lips to slide deep as his orgasm builds.
“So good, gonna make me come,” Stephen says, reduced to words between pants.
“You can come now,” he adds. “Want you to, right when I come down your throat.”
Tony’s body bucks between Stephen’s thighs as he comes, following directions more perfectly than he does on the battlefield, spilling into his own hand as Stephen spills between his lips.
“Wow,” Tony says, leaning his head on Stephen’s thigh and regaining his voice far faster than Stephen, though he sounds low and wrecked. “I have the best ideas.”
“I’m sorry, who’s idea?” Stephen manages in response — but in the end, as they fall tiredly into the shower together a few minutes later, it doesn’t really matter.
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