Second Chances

Twenty-Eight

***A/N** Trigger Warning: There will be smut towards the beginning of this chapter!

Tony moaned, his head tilting back as his cock was wrapped in wet heat. A tongue swirled around just to tease him, and Tony should have realized this was exactly how he would be fucked. That smug bastard. 

Tony looked down to tell him that, but as he opened his mouth, he was cut off by another moan when Steve bobbed his head and licked along Tony’s slit. 

“Steve,” Tony breathed, and Steve rose on his knees, gripping the back of Tony’s thighs. 

He hollowed his cheeks, slurping Tony down, and Tony’s hips stuttered bucking into Steve’s mouth. Steve moaned, and Tony felt his balls tighten even more than they already were as Steve’s throat vibrated around the head of Tony’s cock. Steve then tilted his head to the side, slowly sliding off Tony’s rock hard and now spit slick dick. Steve looked down at Tony’s bobbing erection, dragging his hand from the shaft to the head, twisting as his hand slid off. He then looked back up at Tony, who held his breath, watching as Steve mouthed at Tony’s abdomen.

“Tony,” Steve’s voice was breathless and rough, something that Tony could only dream of. “I want you to fuck me.”

Well, that was a bit of a surprise. Maybe with Steve’s big Dorito-shape and fat dick, Tony thought he would be bottoming tonight. But, while it is a surprise, it is definitely not an unwelcome one because Steve Rogers had the best damn ass in the world.

Tony whined in answer, causing Steve to smirk and slowly rise onto his feet, dragging his hands up Tony’s sides. Tony shivered, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck, and he titled his head, bucking his hips against Steve’s as they kissed.

Tony woke up with a gasp, his dick achingly hard underneath the bed cover. Tony held his breath, slowly tilting his head to the left only to see an empty bed. 

It was all a dream. It was all a dream, and Tony had dreamed about his boyfriend-turned-friend sucking him off and then asking to get fucked. Jesus. 

Tony pressed his palms against his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose.

It was okay. It was totally fine. Everyone knew that when Tony wanted something and he didn’t get it, he wanted it even more. This was just his brain's way of being stupidly melodramatic. It was fine. At least his aching dick meant Tony was healthy. Not like he didn’t think he wasn’t healthy before...this event. And exactly, that was what it was. An event. Nothing more. He dreamt about sex. He couldn't count how many times he has done that. He had dreamed about Victoria Secret Models, Pepper, Rhodey, that one person from the deli that makes the best meatball sandwiches that Tony would fully willingly sell his fortune for. Hell, Tony even dreamt about Obie on that one terrifyingly memorable occasion where he had never felt more not-hard in his life once he woke up. 

See, so everything was fine. And it made even more sense because Tony had called Steve last night, and they had talked, so his subconscious was just taking that and the fact that he hadn’t had sex in...months and rolling it into a fun little ball. Tony was fine. Steve was fine. The memory of the dream would just magically go away. 

Tony tried crawling out of his bed, hissing when his over sensitive dick brushed against the duvet. 

Okay, that was one thing that wouldn’t magically go away. 

Tony quickly took care of himself and rushed to wash himself off in the shower. He checked his watch, seeing that Pepper would call him in about an hour demanding something new for R&D. Tony rushed to his lab and started working on the newest StarkPad schematic because his actual engineers in R&D were too angry about the whole “no weapons” thing that nearly half of them decided to quit.