A/N: Oh my lord, moar! So yeah, when I say I'm going to leave something alone for a while, I think that's code for "I'm freaking writing the first chapter RIGHT NOW". Because I can't leave well enough alone when there are ideas buzzing around my head.

First chapter is a lot of fluff. Shut up, they earned it after the last story and Magneto is a mean bastard, so they have a lot they're about to face.

And, as you all know, I rarely work with a beta. If you find mistakes, point them out so I can fix them.

Edit: It has been pointed out to me that Plexiglass is not the same as the higher grade stuff that is actually good against bullets. After some research, I've decided to change things around.


Tony Stark had never been accused of doing something half-assed. When he decided on an idea, he pushed the throttle to full and hit it with everything he had. Vacationing was no exception. Since Steve requested that they get the marriage certificate signed without pomp or ceremony, Tony pulled out all the stops for their honeymoon. He'd found a remote, traditional hotel at the southern foot of Sicily and rented every room, mostly to keep anyone from lodging noise complaints.

The hotel owner was incredibly accommodating. Considering how much Tony was paying him, he ought to be. Tony had the hotel reserved for two weeks and he wanted everything to be perfect. He knew hotel staff wasn't accustomed to rearranging furniture and accepting personal shipments for their guests, so he'd chipped in plenty of tips and additional fees to make sure it was all done right.

His wedding gift for Steve probably could've waited for them to come home from their trip, but patience was the other thing no one ever accused Tony of having. After teasing Steve about their first dance being in New York's city hall, he'd discovered the soldier had never learned how to dance, that he'd always waited for the right person. Tony's plan formed in microseconds and fell into place after only two brief phone calls. Thankfully, it fit in with another project he'd been planning for weeks.

Watching confusion, then surprise, then joy shift across Steve's face in waves, Tony got his reward. They were staying in the largest suite available, but instead of the lounging couches in the middle of the room and the television along the wall, there was an empty, bare floor and a restored record player with a stack of albums.

The rest of the room was the same as it was online. There was a king-sized bed against the whitewashed stucco wall, their suitcases already laid out on the burnt orange comforter. The balcony doors were open, as were all the arched windows. Gauzy curtains moved gently in the breeze, bringing the scent of the sea into their room. Beyond the covered balcony was the Mediterranean, so startlingly blue it looked like a carefully doctored photograph.

"Oh, Tony," his husband breathed and walked over to pick up the first case of albums from the stack.

He looked at them reverently, holding the box with one hand as he flipped through the artists with the other. His fingers caressed the faded front of each before he took the edge and turned to the next. Tony grinned at the flicker of recognition Steve had as he read the album titles.

When Tony set out to restore a phonograph for Steve, he'd started the tedious process of hunting down records from the twenties all the way through 1945. Though there were still a few he wanted to buy, the collection consisted of most of the popular bands and musicians through the roaring twenties, the depression and the Second World War. It was going to be his wedding present anyway, but Tony wanted it all shipped to Sicily to meet them.

Tony poured them both a glass of local wine from the bar and brought one to Steve, "You're learning how to dance, big guy, if we have to go through all two hundred of them."

Steve glanced up at him, his face lit up like Times Square, "How did you find all of these?"

"I looked. Actually, a program I wrote for Jarvis looked, I just decided which ones to buy when he gave me the daily list," Tony explained, setting the wine down on a low table when Steve didn't acknowledge it. The soldier was too busy reading the back of a Count Basie album. Tony's smile turned fond and he placed a kiss on Steve's t-shirt covered shoulder, "Pick one. Let's listen to it."

Just the thought of deciding on one made Steve's eyebrows knit. There were so many of them and Steve hadn't even seen them all. More waited back at the tower in a new shelving unit Tony had personally installed in the media room. Sensing how conflicted the blond was, Tony set his wine glass next to Steve's untouched one and paged through the other boxes until he found Louis Armstrong.

He handed it to Steve, "You should put the first one on. Although, technically, it's not the first one. I had to test it to make sure it worked. I've never worked with such old tech before."

Steve took the black disc in his hands and set it gently on the turntable. Once the needle was in place and the record started rotating, the immortal, brassy call of years long past crackled from the pavilion. Steve stood watching the album, his back to Tony. Tension gripped Steve's shoulders hard enough that Tony could see it through his shirt. Steve was usually in shirts that were several sizes too small for him, like he'd never gotten used to shopping for his new frame. It made it easy to see every twitch and movement of his oversized physique.

Wondering if he'd made the right decision about giving Steve the albums, Tony wrapped his arms around the bigger man from behind. Louis's trumpet wailed in the quiet. "I wanted to give you a piece of your past back," Tony's voice was so soft it sounded like an apology.

Resting his cheek against the nape of Steve's neck, Tony berated himself for the phonograph. It brought back everything Steve had lost with the sounds of a time he'd never see again. He should've known better. As Steve's muscles corded under his touch, Tony tried to figure out what to say to spackle the damage.

"You have no idea how much this means to me."

Tony's worry melted. There was a faint tremor blurring Steve's words, but Tony could hear the appreciation in them, "Pretty sure I've got a notion. We've only been dating, what is it now? A year? And then there's the whole marriage thing-"

Steve turned and enveloped him, burying his face in Tony's shoulder. He lifted Tony up so he wasn't bent in an awkward position, Tony's toes scraping the floor. Tony stroked his hair. There was still tension in Steve's enhanced body, enough of it that Tony's chest ached for him.

There were a lot of subjects they didn't tread on, Tony's father was one, and Steve's overwhelming regret was another. The soldier put on a brave face for everyone, hiding the time he'd lost behind his awe of the new century. It took months before Tony saw hints of his regret, noticing it came out most often when Steve was working the punching bag. Their connection helped, but it didn't take away the memories that suffocated like cling wrap.

"Don't cry, babe," Tony crooned against his ear, wrapping his unoccupied arm around Steve's neck, the other tucking hair behind the soldier's ear. "If you don't like Louis, I can change it." Formed as a jest, Tony left the question unspoken: Do I need to turn it off?

"I'm not crying."

"Then our ceiling has a leak."

Steve snorted and pinched his side. When he drew away, his blue eyes were dry, but there was a trace of sadness swimming in the irises, "It's wonderful, thank you."

When Steve set him on his feet, Tony left his arms draped across the bigger man's shoulders. Thinking they were already in a good position for dancing, Tony reached back to shift Steve's hold from his waist to his hipbones and laced his fingers behind Steve's neck. He swayed to the beat of the music and Steve followed the action. Their feet moved in tandem, Tony leading the slow spin around the room.

"This isn't so hard," Steve said.

"That's because this is not dancing. Any junior high kid can do this." Steve's cheeks flushed and he shot him a half-hearted glare. With a smile, Tony stepped in closer so their chests touched, "What's really going to throw you are things like the Swing and the Waltz, or the Foxtrot. We don't have the right music for it, but I could teach you how to do the Samba."

Bewildered, Steve asked, "How do you know so many dances?"

"Rich parents, lots of parties." Tony shrugged. "And I went to cotillion classes, but if you ever tell anybody that, I'll leak that you wear patriotic underwear."

"They were a gift."

"Trust me, they were a gag gift... Wait, who gave you boxers as a present?"

"Clint, same year he got those Mickey Mouse pajamas for Thor."

Tony rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Two obvious gag gifts and they both wore them. He'd seen Thor in the stupid Disney pajamas a hundred times. He wore them every time he stayed at the tower, possibly because they were the only sleepwear he owned and there had been loud complaints the first time he'd wandered downstairs naked. Not that Tony had really minded, the blond was a god and was undeniably built like one, but Banner and Barton had not approved.

Thinking back, Tony was certain that was also the same Christmas Clint had given him the shirt that said 'Kiss Me, I'm Iron Man'. It was something that had been floating around the shops in Soho at the time, along with another shirt that said 'Bitch, Please. I'm Iron Man'. Tony suspected Agent Barton hadn't seen that one, or he would've bought it too. He couldn't really rail Steve for donning his gag gift, because he'd put on the shirt a few times.

The song changed to something more upbeat and Steve's hands made their way up the curve of Tony's spine, "Let's start with Swing. That's one I'm familiar with."

"Thought you said you'd never danced," Tony teased against the column of the soldier's throat, his beard scraping on the skin as he kissed a trail over his jugular.

"Just watched."

His statement sobered Tony's humor. Sitting back into Steve's hands, he caught the bright blue eyes and held them. They continued to sway to Armstrong's deep voice while Tony's mind mulled on Steve sitting at the edge of a dance. Always watching, never called to join. It bothered him that no one would give him a chance, but what bothered him even more was that he would've been the first to judge Steve by his cover. He couldn't deny that their relationship had started because he was physically attracted to the soldier. Now that he knew the depth of Steve's kindness and strength, Tony was ashamed of the fact.

"Hey," Steve said and brushed his fingertips along Tony's jaw, sensing his mood shift, "Thought you were going to teach me how to Swing?" He tilted his head to the right and studied Tony as though he was waiting for an answer.

Tony nodded before he slipped out of Steve's hold, "Right, Swing. Louis's good, but we need a bigger band."

While he paged through the albums, he sipped at his abandoned wine. The flavor exploded across his tongue, rich and fruity the way wine was meant to taste but had forgotten how when it came to the states. Tony rarely drank wine, but he planned on sending a crate of the local brand home.

Grabbing Benny Goodman out of the stack, Tony changed out the records and set the needle on the grooved black surface. A much bigger sound that Armstrong filled the room, the beat fast and the brass loud. Tony turned to find Steve tapping his foot with a soft smile. He looked up at Tony, the smile widening.

"I remember when this song first aired."

Tony returned his grin. He had a quip ready about Steve showing his age, but decided against it. It wasn't worth scratching Steve's genuine delight over the music. "Alright," Tony started as he got positioned with their toes nearly touching. He guided Steve's hand to his waist, letting him have the male role since it was easier for Tony to duck under his arm than vice-versa. "Feel the beat of the music and time every step to that."

At first, it was all fumbling and laughter. Steve stepped on his toes twice, cringing each time and apologizing profusely. Tony hit his head on Steve's elbow during a spin and they both took a break for wine. Afterwards, Tony changed the way he was giving instructions, modeling the movements without Steve then integrating them together. They only became slightly more successful with the new tactic.

Even with as uncoordinated as they started, they moved in harmony before the album ended. Finally at the speed of the music, Tony rotated in and out of Steve's hold, going to the end of their reach so only their fingers connected and ducking under Steve's arm to spin in close. Steve repeated the action in reverse, Tony lifting his arm high for Steve to get beneath it. Their feet tapped rhythmically on the terracotta tiles.

As the song came to a close, Tony rolled into Steve's torso, but Steve didn't let him leave. He grabbed Tony around the waist, waiting until Tony lifted his chin before he kissed him. Their kiss didn't match the pace of the dancing, it was slow and languid. Steve's tongue passed over Tony's lower lip, leaving it slick so their mouths slid when they made contact again.

The record player got to the end of the Goodman tracks and played the soft crackling noise that hid at the edge of the disc. Tony hardly noticed. He turned his body flush with Steve, his groan taking over the silence as Steve's broad hands snuck under his shirt. The callused palm rubbed Tony's abdomen in circles, moving steadily upward until his thumb brushed the bottom edge of the arc.

Tony's new arc was based around the vibranium, but now had a piece of double-layer polycarbonate sheeting as a cover. Metal crossed through the middle of the two layers to strengthen them. It was cut in a lattice pattern of triangles to let out the light, none of them big enough for a bullet to pass through. Tony didn't think it was as visually appealing as past arcs, but it was certainly better protected. He'd done the testing with one of Natasha's pistols before he'd installed it.

As his hand connected with the piece of machinery, Steve broke away from Tony's mouth to look at it. He circled the edge with his thumb as reverently as the albums, picking Tony up so he could place a kiss at the center. Tony watched him with half-lidded eyes. Wrapping his legs around Steve's ribcage while the big man paid his respects, Tony lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. Tony understood why Steve revered the reactor, why he almost seemed to worship it when they were in bed. It kept him alive.

Tony considered the arc reactor one of his crowning achievements, the only thing higher in his mind was the MARK. Despite the fact that Steve pressed his lips to the cover almost every time they crawled into bed together, Tony felt a shiver of pleasure when Steve's eyes fluttered closed and the light played off the slight crease between his brows. Tony stroked the soldier's cheek and Steve blinked and refocused on his face. He kissed Tony's mouth again, his lips hot from the arc.

"You want to put a new record on?" Tony asked in a breath, slanting their lips together before Steve could answer.

Steve carried him to the phonograph without breaking their kiss. Only when he was reaching blindly to find the wooden casing of the player did Steve turn his head. Keeping one hand braced under Tony's hips, he picked up the needle and flipped the album over. The swing music resumed, the iconic drum solo of Sing, Sing, Sing thumping out of the pavilion.

"I actually know this one," Tony said with a smile.

He couldn't often say that about something from Steve's past. Knowing that was what Steve felt like every day living in this century, Tony allowed himself to show his happiness in having a connection. He'd long ago stopped rolling his eyes when Steve got excited about knowing a pop-culture reference. Instead of thinking it was pathetic Steve grinned over understanding what flying monkeys were, Tony found his recognition adorable. Tony couldn't imagine losing seventy years, so he could give Steve his small pleasures.

Steve took him to the bed, "Yeah? It's a little before your time."

"Doesn't mean I haven't heard it."

They paused at the foot of the bed, Tony scowling at their suitcases. Steve set him down and started to clear off the surface. While he worked, Tony toed off his shoes. The flowing curtains at the balcony doors caught his eye and his fingers paused on the button of his jeans. Tony stared out at the jeweled water, taking a deep breath and nearly tasting the salt.

An idea making the corner of his mouth twist, Tony walked backwards through the balcony entrance. He stared at Steve until he noticed. The moment the Captain's eyes caught on Tony's expression, they flashed with hunger. Tony pushed down the zipper of his jeans, running his thumbs across the inside hem to he reveal his hips and the dark trail of hair that started a few inches below his naval. Tony stepped back until his ass bumped into one of the arched openings in the wall.

Since they were on the second story, there were no stairs leading down to the white sand beach. The balcony was entirely enclosed by a wall, the stucco broken by long, waist-level archways every few feet. It ran the length of their hotel room, with two lounge chairs on end closest to them and a wide window seat at the other.

Tony scraped off the wall and backed across the balcony, Steve following him in a predatory stride. Just as he reached the window seat, he pushed his jeans and underwear over his ass and let them pool around his feet. He stepped out of them and slid naked onto the soft white cushions. The sunlight slanting across the wide seat warmed his back and spilled over his chest as he got settled on his elbows.

Still completely clothed, Steve crawled over him, pinning him against the sill of archway. His mouth collided with Tony's lips. They connected open, Tony's tongue meeting Steve's in the air before their mouths sealed. Tony's hand snuck under Steve's skin-tight shirt, the shape of his splayed fingers moving under the fabric as he read the lines of the soldier's abdomen like brail.

Outside, they could hear the waves and the call of birds. The Swing music filtered out onto the patio, merging with the other noises to create a quiet kaleidoscope of sound. Steve drew back and caught sight of the Mediterranean. Something like awe took over Steve's features, his lust momentarily forgotten. Tony forgot that the last time Steve was in Europe, the world was at war. As an American, places like Sicily were off limits to him. And Tony doubted he did much traveling as an art major.

Tony worked the catch of Steve's belt while the blond admired the view. It was, after all, why they'd come to Italy. The view, the food, and the company. He had Steve's khakis down around his knees before the Captain looked away from the sea.

"It's beautiful here," Steve whispered and licked a gleaming path from the reactor to Tony's collarbone.

Tony didn't bother stifling his groan when Steve settled between his legs. There was a reason he'd rented every room in the hotel. "We could buy a house out here, if you like it so much." Arching his hips, Tony's groans morphed into a hiss of air as their cocks rutted together.

Steve shuddered and sat up to strip his shirt off. The green, 'Go Army' rag (as far as Tony was concerned, it was a rag since it was nearly threadbare) caught on one of the loungers. It draped over the edge, the bottom hem brushing the floor. Steve's brow dipped as he leaned in to scrape his teeth over Tony's left nipple. "Are there any good schools out here?" he asked calmly, as if he wasn't leaving a hickey on Tony's pectoral between words.

"It would be a vacation home," Tony distractedly mentioned, his mind a few thousand miles away with the stacks of private school brochures on his desk.

He'd been to eleven different schools with Annika, but wasn't satisfied with any of them. Though they were all equally impressed with her brilliance, none could offer a program or teacher that wouldn't bore the five-year-old to tears.

In the meantime Tony was teaching her anything that caught her interest. Whatever the subject, he'd read a few books the night before so he could answer most of her questions the next day. Steve had suggested homeschooling, but they both agreed she needed socialization outside of Stark Tower. The girl was hopelessly terrified of anyone she didn't know and had taken to hiding behind Steve's legs when someone unfamiliar came to their home.

Steve stroked the inside of Tony's thigh and chided him, "She's fine, stop worrying."

It brought Tony back to the argument they'd had on the plane. It was fresh enough to make him indignant, "We left her with Thor! She's probably drinking mead while he tells her wildly inappropriate stories!"

"No, we left her with Jane. She'll keep an eye on things."

"Thor, babysitter. Do these words fit together to you? They shouldn't even be in the same coherent thought," Tony growled.

They didn't have a lot of options regarding a sitter for their honeymoon. Annika couldn't be left with anyone she didn't know, effectively eliminating any kind of professional service. Tony had argued for Bruce over Jane and Thor, but Steve had shot him down before the words had finished tumbling out of his mouth. Natasha was absolutely out of the question because Tony didn't want to come home to find their little girl learning hand-to-hand combat. And Clint seemed as adept at parenting as any master assassin, which meant he held her at arm's length with a look on his face that said 'what the hell do I do with it?'

Regrettably, they'd agreed on Jane even though Thor was part of the package. Annika was immensely fond of the Asgardian and had sealed the decision for them when she squealed in delight over Uncle Thor's arrival. The demi-god was good with her for short spans of time, but they'd never tested anything over two hours. Two weeks was a lifetime in comparison.

Steve fixed him with an annoyed stare. Between Tony's legs on his hands and knees, with his hard, red cock jutting forward in salute, the expression was as arousing as it was belittling. The soldier blinked slowly and raised an eyebrow before he said, "I'm going to have sex now. When you feel like mentally joining me, let me know."

"I'm just saying that- ughn! Jesus, Steve!"

Tony's argument abandoned him when Steve suddenly hoisted his lower half off the sheets and licked his entrance as if it was candy. With only his shoulders touching the cushions, Tony tried to find something to hold onto. Steve's hands were iron at his hips, holding him up, and Tony's legs hung on either side of his head. Grasping at unsubstantial objects like pillows and the end of the drapes, Tony ended up winding his fingers in Steve's perfectly parted hair while the soldier tongued him open. His whines were pathetic in his ears, but the sensations bolting down his spine didn't warrant anything else.

"Better," Steve pulled away to praise him. He rewarded Tony with two fingers that sought out his prostate. "Do I have your attention now?"

"Yes," Tony whimpered, a full-body tremble radiating from the touch of Steve's fingertips. When Steve withdrew his hand and replaced it with his hot mouth, Tony gasped, "Where the hell did you learn that?" Rimming couldn't have been around in Steve's day. Tony tried and failed to comprehend the idea of sexual deviancy coming from an age where 'applesauce' was an explicative.

Steve dismissed the theory that he learned it before the ice by saying, "Book," between licks.

As Steve's tongue pushed in deep, Tony was glad he had good hygiene habits. The slick muscle curled and flexed nimbly inside him. They'd had sex on the plane, so Tony could only imagine what he tasted. Though Tony had cleaned up, there would still be traces of come and lube mingling with the bitter bite of soap.

Steve slid his tongue out of the now wet hole and lowered Tony so his hips rested on Steve's bent thighs. Three of his fingers replaced his tongue and he smirked at the flabbergasted expression on Tony's face. "What?" he asked.

Through his haze of lust and pleasure, Tony was still trying to figure out how Steve had gotten his hands on a sex book. Or how he'd come to the decision that he needed one. Tony wasn't complaining about it, but the mental image of Steve in Barnes and Noble going through Sex for Dummies was too strange to accept.

Even as Steve worked him open, Tony tilted his head and questioned, "Where did you get- oh, yeah, baby. Right there." He forgot his curiosity when Steve's index finger rubbed firmly on his sweet spot. Tony stretched out, the polished case of the reactor catching the sunlight and refracting it on the ceiling and walls. Tightening his legs around Steve's hips, Tony rolled onto Steve's hand eagerly. "Right there. Right there," he groaned through swollen lips.

Steve obliged and pressed on the sensitive patch of flesh, though his lifted his head to watch the bright circles of sunlight the arc threw off. Reflected through the curved piece of clear polycarbonate, the beams were tight and concentrated like light coming through a magnifying glass. Tony's every breath sent them dancing. "Tasha gifted it to me before our honeymoon. Said I had to find new ways to keep a man like you satisfied," Steve responded absently.

Tony followed his gaze to the ceiling, not sure why Steve was so interested in refraction when he had Tony naked and at his mercy. His voice gritty, Tony mentioned, "Trust me, I'd say something if you weren't keeping me satisfied."

When Steve's fingers slid out, Tony could feel his body close up around the void. Glancing at the ceiling once more, Steve wrapped his arms around Tony and lifted him into his lap. Tony nuzzled his jaw, smelling sweat and the cologne he'd bought for Steve a few months prior, while Steve guided the head of his cock to his stretched hole.

With one hand on the reactor, Steve gently maneuvered Tony so he was leaning at an angle away from Steve's body, nothing holding him up except the hand caressing his spine. Tony's stomach muscles tensed as his center of gravity was lost, but Steve massaged his tight abdominals.

"Shh, relax. I've got you."

Tony gripped Steve's biceps and let the man take his weight a little at a time. He knew Steve could hold him. Steve could pick up a car, so lifting Tony with one arm was nothing, but it required every spec of trust Tony had to let Steve support him at such an extreme angle several feet off the cushions.

Tony let out a shaky exhale and met the soldier's amused eyes. Before he could ask what was funny, Tony realized what he'd done. In the middle of Steve's chest, the reflected circle of sunlight glowed. It was an echo of Tony's arc, warm, yellow light where Tony's was cool and blue. Tony brushed the hot piece of skin with his knuckles, a gentle smile playing over his lips.

The light darted away as Steve inserted the wide head of his cock and Tony's back bowed. He was certain he was sliding across Steve's palm, his muscles seizing up against the feeling of falling. Clenching around the intrusion sent a tendril of pain curling through his spine. Tony gasped and tried to sit up, but Steve splayed both hands under his shoulder blades to steady him.

"It's okay. Relax, Tony," Steve whispered, rubbing circles on Tony's skin with his thumbs.

Tony glared at him, "You're banned from combining trust exercises with sex."

"If you'd relax, you'd enjoy it." Not quite hiding his disappointment, Steve asked, "Do you want me to put you down?"

Tony swore the hint of discontent was intentional. The man was practically pouting and Tony couldn't deny him something he wanted. Cursing under his breath, Tony grumbled, "No. Just don't drop me."

He knew Steve incredibly well, so he wasn't under the illusion that the soldier didn't realize he was toying with Tony the way a cat played with a ball of yarn. With an appropriately placed scowl, a bit of prodding, or a soft, 'Please?', he could get Tony to do almost anything. And Steve knew exactly which button to push, and what situation to push it in, to get the reaction he wanted.

Tony could never get away with claiming he wasn't wrapped around Steve's finger, anymore than Steve could say the same about Tony. They were tangled so tightly that the only way to separate them was to cut something important. Tony hoped he never had to experience that. The more their passion and knowledge grew in each other, the more horrendous a true breakup would be.

Steve got him rebalanced on one hand, the other going to his hip to help ease Tony onto his cock. Forcing himself to relax around Steve's erection wasn't difficult, he did that all the time. It was trying to let the tension flow out of the rest of his body that Tony had trouble with. As Steve slid into him, Tony let the pleasure of it coerce his limbs into a boneless state. His fingers uncurled on Steve's thick biceps and his legs loosened and spread around the soldier's hips.

As soon as Steve's pubic hair teased the soft skin beneath Tony's balls, the wayward hand rejoined its partner at Tony's shoulder blades. Tony shivered and gave Steve a squeeze to let him know he was ready. With the way he was positioned, Tony had minimal control over their coupling. Steve started an achingly slow pace and all Tony could do was whine. He wasn't aroused enough to resort to begging, but he was close.

The demanding edge to his voice make Steve's eyes skid up to his face, "Come on, you can do better than that. Faster."

Steve shook his head and rolled his lower body to slide out, then pushed inside at a crawl, "Not today. Always tug me out of control, but today we're going to enjoy it."

"We always enjoy it," Tony pointed out, his voice husky and raw. "Fuck me, big guy."

"No. And no cussing, I want this to be romantic."

Tony stopped contemplating the best position for his legs so he could drag himself down onto Steve, and actually looked at him. The blond was serious. Steve was always serious, but this was different. Even as he pumped into Tony, Steve placed a tender kiss on the corner of his mouth. Tony's resistance crumbled.

"Alright, fine. You want to stop and smell the roses while we-" Tony broke off with a cry as Steve slammed against his prostate. It was the only quick thrust before he resumed his previous pace. When Tony panted, "You're evil," Steve smirked, his lips drawing to the side.

"I'm the symbol of America. The people would disagree with you."

"They don't know you like I do."

"There's no one alive who knows me like you do," there was sadness in the statement.

Tony stroked Steve's arms with his thumbs, feeling the sweat gathering on his skin. Suddenly, the joke wasn't funny anymore. Unable to stay still anymore, Tony crossed his legs behind Steve's low back and sat up. He cut off Steve's complaint with his lips, cradling his head as he kissed the shadows of history out of him. Steve squeezed him around the waist and continued the relaxed thrusts while their tongues lingered.

The build was unhurried. The changed position afforded Tony more leverage, but he let Steve keep the pace. He found it amusing that when he wanted to go slow, Steve wanted to go fast, and vice-versa. If he wasn't in the perfect position for Steve to scrape over his sweet spot with each thrust, he would've said as much.

Tony loved getting fucked hard. He loved it when Steve went all alpha male on him and pinned his shoulders to the bed or wall while he pounded into him, but this kind of sex was sensual. It was more about the connection between them than it was about getting off.

Tony locked his arms behind Steve's head, their lips hovering close. Every second or third thrust, Tony crossed the gap and tasted Steve's full lower lip. As the record in the other room ran through Ev'rything I Love, Sensation Rag, and Love Walked In, Tony's kisses evolved from fleeting touches to sucking and biting that Steve returned with equal fervor. The soldier's calluses scraped down his spine, pressing against his ass cheeks as Steve grabbed a globe in each large hand and squeezed. Tony gasped into his mouth.

The firm push of Steve's hips increased and Tony's cock pulsed between their stomachs. He ached to get some friction, but he was letting Steve have this session. Control was something Tony coveted. When it wasn't his to wield, he was nervous or agitated. Steve was the only one allowed to take it from him. In battle, he trusted Steve to make the call because Steve saw the whole picture on the field. In bed, it was difficult for Tony to let go. Sex was always a subtle struggle for dominance, both goading and pushing to get what they wanted.

"Steve," Tony whispered against the lobe of his ear, tonguing the piece of skin. "I'm… I'm…"

Through clenched teeth, Steve grunted, "I know," and slapped into him faster, harder.

Burying his face in Steve's shoulder, Tony shivered with pleasure. He teetered on the fine line, the heat of release smoldering low in his belly, ready to catch fire. As Steve's gasps grew ragged and uneven, Tony knew it wouldn't be long.

Steve's cock dragged across his walls, bringing him closer with each twitch and push and roll of his lover's hips. With his eyes squinted shut, Tony didn't see Steve's hand approach his flushed erection, but the long, tight stroke from root to tip was his undoing. Tony shot with a low groan, his body tightening to milk Steve's dick. Ecstasy roared in his ears with his racing heartbeat. His back curved until Steve was the only thing holding him up. The force of his orgasm left him shuddering, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled to regain his scattered senses.

Quiet as always, Steve exhaled when he came, his semen filling Tony in hot bursts. Tony held on while Steve rode out the release. The last few thrusts were uncoordinated. Stroking Steve's hair off his sweaty forehead, Tony kissed the outside corner of the soldier's eye and murmured, "Yeah, that's it. Give me all of it."

Steve's shoulders twitched as he groaned, "Tony." He dragged the name out, mixing arousal and annoyance in a way that made Tony laugh.

"What? I thought you liked it when I talk dirty."

"During, not after."

Tony followed the line of Steve's dog tags with his left hand, the gems on his wedding band catching the sun and throwing a dozen broken beams of red and blue and white. Tony leaned away just enough to look Steve in the eye, "Am I making you hard again?"

Steve's features stayed completely neutral, but his cock pulsed in Tony's ass. It filled quickly and Tony momentarily wondered what he'd gotten himself into. Undulating his hips, Tony grinned at the flare of Steve's nostrils and the way the blue irises darkened. The blond hoisted him, growling, "Bed."

Tony suspected he wasn't going to see anything but the ceiling on this trip, "Why do we have to go back to the bed? We have a view of the sea and I've essentially bought out this corner of the island."

His mind clearly too compromised by oxytocin and endorphins, Steve blinked at him.

"I'll use simple phrases. Let's stay out here," Tony said playfully and ground down on Steve. Still overly sensitized from their first coupling, the movement sent out prickles of pleasure that waltzed at the edge of pain. Tony made a sound that was almost a sob and repeated the motion. It was so good, but too much at the same time.

Gently, Steve lowered them both onto the window seat, his tags rattling on Tony's reactor as he leaned over him. He kissed across Tony's face and whispered, "Love you," as he shifted inside Tony.

"I'd-" Dragging in a lungful of air at the minute thrust, it took Tony a moment to find his lost thoughts, "I'd hope so, or you shouldn't have said 'I do'."

Steve drew out until just the ridged head remained and shoved back inside. Tony's bliss was agonizing. His hyper-stimulated body shook as Steve picked up the pace Tony had wanted all along. Cock stirring against his stomach, Tony was hard again after just a few thrusts. He yanked Steve down by his tags. Their teeth clicked together with the ferocity of the meeting. Lips skated across each other wetly.

Over the cry of Benny Goodman, the satellite phone in Tony's bag rang. Steve froze and peered into the hotel room. Tony tugged on the tags like a leash, "For God's sake, Steve. They'll leave a message."

The soldier didn't budge, "What if it's important? Fury has the number for that line."

"It's probably just Thor trying to find out where we keep the Pop-Tarts."

"Could be important," Steve stated and gave Tony a look that would make lesser men tuck their tails and scurry away.

Tony glared right back, "We're on vacation. Vacation, Steve. You know, where you relax, have sex and a Mai Tai? Let him call Banner, or one of his super-spies."

"Banner needs supervision."

The phone went silent, and then started ringing all over again. Whoever it was didn't want to leave a message. At the persistent chime, Steve disengaged and went to answer the call.

With an annoyed growl, Tony yelled after him, "Do you remember that conversation about cock blocking yourself? You're doing it again." His insides ached at the sudden loss of heat. He thunked his head down on the cushions and listened to Steve give a painfully formal greeting about how it was Tony's satellite phone the caller had reached. "They know it's my phone!"

The silence on the other side of the wall stretched taught. Sitting up, Tony came to the balcony doors, bracing one hand on the whitewashed frame. The tight lines in Steve's back said it wasn't Thor looking for Pop-Tarts.

"I understand," Steve said. "We'll be on the plane in an hour."

The Captain's fingers curled into his fist at his side and Tony went to the suitcases for clothes. By the time Steve hung up, Tony had outfits piled on the bed for both of them and was waiting his hands on his hips for an update.


Steve turned the phone over, running his thumb over the battery compartment before he rolled it face up.

"Steve?" Tony prompted.

"Raisa's escaped from prison." Steve looked at Tony, the steel determination Tony was very familiar with dominating his features. "She could be coming for Annika."

Tony was dressed and out the door in three minutes, his husband on his heels.



So much more to come. So many awesome plans. I'm excited.