A/N: This story can stand alone, but might be more enjoyable if you read my previous two fics, "Identical Opposites" and "But Who's Counting". There might be one more after this, or maybe a couple more, or possibly several, because I burn so hard for these two. OH HOW I BURN.

Tony expected the knock on the door in the small hours of the morning to be Captain Rogers, actually, wanting to rekindle their argument from earlier, or hell, maybe even start a new, completely unrelated one, just to keep things interesting. Stark thought Rogers self-important and arrogant, but not in the debonair, admirable way Tony was. Nope. Rogers was self-righteous, and that was even worse. Being important and being righteous did not go hand in hand, which made Tony – at least to his own way of thinking – infinitely more tolerable than Rogers.

But the knocking continued.

"See, this is what I'm talking about," Tony muttered to himself. "Can't fight during respectable hours. Thinks I'm going to be up for a good old fashioned migraine in the middle of the night, just because he's Captain America." Regardless, he closed his laptop, sat up in bed, and then decided "You know what? No. I can think of a few things I am in the mood for, Captain Buzzkill isn't one of them. Frankly I'm surprised he doesn't break the door down just to prove a point."

"Go away, Rogers. Not up for your abuse right now. Doing a fine job of abusing myself, if you know what I mean."

The knocking stopped.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to bother you."

Aaaaand that's not Rogers. Tony swung his legs over the side of the bed and scrambled to his feet. He opened the door and stuck his head out, looked left, looked right, and caught Banner's last stride as he rounded the corner.

"Banner! Hey!" Tony whispershouted and saw Bruce's shadow stop. "I thought you were... and I wasn't really... Nevermind. Did you need something?"

"No, it's all right... it's OK. I'll just... I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"You sure? I wasn't asleep either."

"Yes. Yes definitely. It wasn't important."

"All right. If you're sure." Silence itself hesitated between them, and Tony half expected an answer. Maybe because he would turn around with a "Well, now that you mention it..." He waited a few seconds, probably a few seconds too long, and then closed the door.

Well. That was unexpected. And not strange at all.

Tony shrugged and figured it was no use trying to make sense of Banner. He liked to think of him as controlled chaos; you could predict 9 out of 10 things he'd do with startling accuracy, but that 10th thing would sneak up behind you and scream "Boo!" when you least expected it. What was it Banner had said about Loki? "His mind is a like a bag full of cats. You can smell crazy on him." That was Banner's mind. But without the crazy. Or at least the evil.

Which, of course, was not to say that Tony wasn't damn curious.

In relatively short order, though, curiosity gave way to the renewed glow of his laptop screen, illuminated by nuclear physics. Which was about when the knocking started again.

"Watch it be Rogers this time." Except he knew it wasn't.

"It's open!" He hadn't locked the door. Probably not the smartest thing, but the pros, in this case, outweighed the cons, and maybe, just maybe... (Looks like I can make more sense of him than I think)Tony watched the doorknob, waiting for it to turn, and was almost back up on his feet when he heard the tumbler finally turn over.

Tony watched Banner with a puzzled expression as Banner's eyes scanned the room and he stood there, the door propped against his shoulder, fidgeting with his hands as though he didn't know what to do with them. Finally, he took a step inside and let the door close behind him. Tony closed his laptop, making sure not to let it snap shut, and tipped his head, trying to prompt the other man to speak, state his business, or to let the alien pop out of his chest or whatever he was going to do because this was weird. There were awkward silences, and then there was this. If Banner hadn't been standing in Tony's room – had not made a conscious effort to be standing in Tony's room – Tony would almost be convinced that he had no idea where he was or why he was there.

"You're not angry about..." He had to say something. And hey, it was possible. Banner wouldn't be the type to pound on his door and chew him out.

Finally, at long last, his visitor looked at him. He shook his head no with a quizzical look that almost said "How could you think that?" He took a couple steps forward, putting himself nearly equidistant between Stark and the door, as if he was trying to decide which he wanted to be closer to.

Tony, who had been leaning slouched against the headboard of his bed, pushed himself upright and set his laptop on the side table, hoping his "I'm listening" body language would have the desired effect of prompting speech.

Banner took one more step, this time without picking his foot up, like something was compelling him forward, almost against his will. "Tony," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and clearing his throat. "If..." His eyes darted to the floor and then back at Tony, also like they'd looked away without his consent and he'd had to call them back like an errant puppy, "If... if I were to lead, would you... would you follow?"

The only thing Tony could do was nod an almost reverent yes, his mouth going dry. "Do you..." (Don't finish that Stark of course that's what he means) "Yes. Yes, absolutely." He turned and put his feet on the floor, leaning forward slightly, though he didn't know what he intended to do, if he even meant to do anything. "You know I would."

"All right. OK. Good. I just didn't know... when I came in here... actually if I should even come or not... and asked..." (Banner you're babbling) "what you would do... I mean people say a lot of things when they're... you know." And then he just stopped right there, just like that, like he was waiting for an answer, like he'd actually said something in the first place.

But Tony did answer. He held out his hand and waited until Banner convinced his legs to work and his feet to move and was standing in front of him. He didn't take Stark's hand, just stood there, inches in front of him, their knees almost touching, with a look on his face that was every emotion he had ever had or could have ever had reflected in his eyes. And he didn't recoil when Tony gently put his hand on his hip, the same way he might have offered a treat to a dog who had never been anything but kicked. Instead, Banner rested one hand on Tony's forearm, while the other reached for the remote for the lights, hitting the button and turning them off.

He didn't wait for the question. "I'm just a little nervous. That's all." (And so completely self conscious because I could never compare to you and maybe in the dark you won't think - ) "Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." Although Tony did find himself wishing he could be looking into those deep, almost black eyes when...

His train of thought derailed when he felt Bruce's hand slide up his arm and rest on his bicep, cold and hot at the same time, delicate but strong and realized he was likely the first person in probably (How long has it been since the accident since Betty?) years he'd dared to try to touch intimately, even simply affectionately (His father does he even know what affection is?) it was almost like that touch opened a conduit and they were sharing one mind, one set of memories, in two bodies and then Banner's lips were touching his and he stopped thinking except for this is not happening I am going to wake up.

It was awkward at first, as first kisses for first times are until they found their rhythm and then it was slow, teasing and desperate all at the same time. Bruce broke the kiss only long enough to breathe, brushing Tony's mouth with his, parting his lips, wanting more but afraid to initiate it. Tony jerked him forward by the hips, felt him resist out of instinct and then give in and lean into him, whimpering at the feel of Tony's tongue sliding against his. Tony wrapped one arm around Banner's hips, untucking his shirt tail with the other and gliding both hands up the other man's skin, then raking his nails – hard – down his spine.

Bruce's fingers slipped through his hair, shivering, with "Oh" murmured against Tony's lips, on the leading edge of a gasp. "Oh god that felt good." He seemed to give over the rest of the way then, closing the remaining gap between them, standing between Tony's thighs with Tony's hands on the small of his back, close enough so Tony could smell the scent of the generic soap in the communal change room on him, a scent he'd never imagined he could like, much less one that could do this to him.

By touch alone, not because of the darkness, which he was growing accustomed to, but because of the way Banner's tongue was skirting over his teeth making him not want to open his eyes and have to focus on anything else, Tony fumbled with the buttons on the other man's shirt until they were defeated and the garment was cast aside without breaking contact. It was necessary, though, for Tony to get his t-shirt off. Tony could feel Banner's eyes on him as he leaned back on the bed, elbows locked and palms flat, trying to get his breath, waiting for some kind of sign as to what would happen next. He was, after all, only following.

He heard a soft schlip, piff of Banner kicking his shoes off and then hands on his shoulders, nudging him backwards and he all too happy to comply. The edge of the bed sagged under the weight of Bruce's knee between Tony's, then rustling cotton and a leg sliding against his own, grasping, turning, curses bit back through clenched teeth, and then finally the primal electricity of flesh against flesh.

Tony locked his leg around the back of Bruce's knee and rolled, ending up squarely in the middle of the bed with his thigh pressed between Banner's legs and it was so hot to feel him shamelessly grab Tony's hips and grind against him.

"This OK?" Tony muffled against Banner's neck, already feeling him stiffen and press his head back into the pillows.

"Yeah." It came out breathless and husky and more as a formality than an answer. "Yeah, you're fine." It was more than fine, really, because he loved the feel of the bed soft behind him and Tony's body on top of him, making him feel surrounded and wonderfully helpless.

"I'll only go as far as you let me. Tell me when, all right?" Tony hoped Bruce knew he meant it, because it may have lacked conviction with the line of sharp, sweetly painful bites along Bruce's collarbone that punctuated every word. Tony would have never guessed that he liked to be hurt – not really hurt, of course, but hurt just enough to make him stop thinking, enough to shut his emotions down and make him feel something else, make him feel like a flesh-and-blood man again. Although, if Tony had actually thought about it logically instead of the way that Banner was pressing against his thigh, and how every one of those soft little whimpers and moans and whispers of Tony's name every time his tongue and teeth caught purchase on the sensitive, eager body beneath him went straight to his groin, if he'd though about anything other than that, it made perfect sense, really.

"I will." That last word had 2 syllables because Tony's teeth were dragging over the top of Banner's shoulder and right then, the last thing in the world he was thinking about was when to stop. Right then, all he could think about was how much he needed more. Just more. He laced his fingers through Tony's hair again, guiding him in for another kiss (You've forgotten how good it feels to be kissed haven't you?), allowing everything and holding back nothing, squirming under the pressure of Tony's thigh, the hand that wasn't in Tony's hair clenched tight into the crest of his hip, convinced he was going to either hyperventilate or die if he couldn't...

Tony's mouth left his and he leaned over, bracing himself on his elbow, catching Banner's earlobe between his lips. "All you have to do is tell me what you need. Show me. You lead I follow, remember? Anything. Anything you want."

He grabbed Tony's free hand, probably harder than he'd meant to, and lead it down between their bodies, closing it around himself. Tony didn't waste any time shinnying onto his knees, straddling Banner's legs, popping the button of his pants with one hand and forcing the zipper down with the back of it, working his pants down just enough to have complete freedom of movement, then grabbed him quick and hard and stroked him all the way down with one fluid motion.

"Yes, Tony, oh..." Bruce was almost panting by the third stroke, each exhale a quiet whimper, his breathing ragged and out of time.

Without missing a beat, Tony stretched out next to Banner, his leg draped over Banner's thigh for one more point of contact. "Feel good?"

"Christ," he said, drawing in a deep breath and smiling the sexiest, dirtiest smile Tony had ever seen, head thrown back, eyes closed (he's so god damn handsome so sexy and he doesn't even know it) "what do you think?"

Stark squeezed him tight on the next upstroke, slow, stopping at the top, knowing, despite his protests to the contrary, how much Bruce loved to be teased. "More?"

Banner whined high in his throat, canted his hips, fisted the sheets, and got nowhere. "Tony, please. Please."

"Wanna stop now?" It was bordering on evil. But it was so much fun. Because this incarnation of Bruce Banner? This was only for him. And he thought it was beautiful.

"No. No please no. Don't stop. Tony, god. I'll beg for it if you want. Just... please. You can't stop now."

Tony traced the rim of Bruce's ear with his tongue and felt him shiver. "Well, since you asked so nicely" and thought the sigh of "ah" that rewarded his next down stroke was, quite possibly, the hottest thing he'd ever heard. He'd never been with anyone, male or female, who was so responsive, so uninhibited (despite the control he wants to believe he has) as Banner and he didn't know if it was just that he was so deprived of touch, of sex, and of human contact that his body was in a near constant state of overload, or if it was Tony himself, but he found he didn't really care about the particulars, because he loved, loved, being able to do this to him, to see how much pleasure he could give him. Banner might be self conscious or even embarrassed about it, but Stark loved the way he could get him rock hard with the slightest touch, how he could make him whimper and moan, loved the way he moved and begged for more with his body, how he opened himself completely and let down his guard. No one else but Tony saw this side of him. Maybe no one ever had.

Feeling out the cord on the side of Bruce's neck with his tongue, Tony bit him hard and squeezed tight. That one would bruise, he was sure of it. He felt the other man throb in his hand and could tell he was biting back a scream, maybe afraid to let go the rest of the way, maybe afraid to attract attention but Stark really, really wished he hadn't. He'd like nothing better than to make him scream. "Hurt?"


"You like it though, don't you?"

"Yeah." He didn't care about pride anymore. It hurt, but it felt so good too, and sent the most delicious current through is body that amplified everything else.

"That's gonna leave a mark." Tony's lips were still grazing the other man's neck, the short, scratchy hair of his goatee rubbing against his skin.

"I don't care."

Of course Tony considered that a green light and bit him again, maybe even a little harder. Bruce gasped for breath and arched harder into Tony's hand, while he reached out almost blindly with his other for Tony's thigh. Stark grabbed Banner's wrist and pinned it to the mattress at his side. "No. This one is yours."

Bruce clenched his fist and twisted his wrist in Tony's grasp. "I... I wanna touch you… Tony... I want... (I want you to feel what I'm feeling)"

"Later. Because you're about to come so hard you won't even be able to breathe, and I want your full attention." Tony's fist was getting slick with precum and he could feel Banner's skin flush under his lips. "How close are you?"

"Really close. You could... oh yeah". Banner's thought got cut off by the swipe of Tony's thumb over the head of his cock, then a twist of his palm on the down stroke. "Do that again and I'll come."

"You good?" He had to ask. He probably should have asked before how much he could take, but on the other hand, he trusted Banner. Despite how far gone in pleasure he was, Stark knew he still had a mental safety in place at all times.

"Yeah. Yeah, I got it. Just keep talking to me."

(My pleasure)

"The other night… when you went back to your room… did you stroke yourself off thinking about me?"


"This was what you wanted, though, wasn't it?"

"So much. More than anything."

"Bet your own hand is a shitty substitute… You wanted my hands, my mouth, my body, holding you down, making you take it, making you beg for it…"

"Yes Tony. Yes."

"We could try that sometime if you want. Would you let me? Would you let me hold you down and do anything I want to you? Tease you, hurt you, make you scream… and you couldn't do a thing about it? Would you like that?"


"Did you moan my name like that when you came?"


"Come on. Come for me. I want to hear it." This he whispered so close, so intimately in Bruce's ear, it was like Tony's darkest secret. With a well timed twist of his wrist, Stark got his wish; his name off Banner's lips in complete, utter bliss, and it sounded like it was being sung by angels, if angels would have associated with Tony Stark, that is. But it was close enough for him.

"Wow." Banner opened his eyes wide and ran a hand through his hair. "Just… wow. That was… oh my god." He smiled at Tony and said "But I don't want to give you an ego or anything."

"Too late. Already have one. Once you hear the phrase "best head in New York" enough times, well…."

"Oh dear god, Stark… just use a gun. It's faster."

Tony picked a towel up off the floor and tossed it to Bruce. "Wouldn't work anyway. So you'll just have to take it."

"You're the only one on earth who would get away with that comment."

"Awww… you really do care. Unless you're going to pass out in my bed for a while, I'm taking a shower."

"And… I'm invited?"

"Yanno, for a genius…"