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I FEEL MY AGE, SO PLEASE BE GENTLE

tony stark x male reader

authors note: Okay, so this fic came to me while writing about clint's daddy issues. Just Tony having a younger, hotter boyfriend who's also a super soldier. Which is great on paper, but when you get down and dirty, it makes Tony feel old. Like, sure, he still got it, but years have caught up to him and suddenly he's drained after just one round when before he could go up till three. So yeah, hope you guys enjoy the fic!

synopsis: Having a super soldier boyfriend wasn't an easy walk in the park. Sure, the perks outweigh the drawbacks, but when it comes down to having sex, it just highlights the wedge between them. Tony was pushing 50, and you, with the serum, were barely 30. WARNING: 18+ SMUT AHEAD

The headboard slammed against the wall with a sharp crack. Tony's fingers scrabbled for purchase on your shoulders, his legs wrapped tightly around your waist as you thrust into him with a relentless, super soldier rhythm.

"Fuck," he choked out, his head thrown back against the pillows. The arc reactor cast a frantic, blue light across his heaving chest, highlighting the strain in his neck and the blissful agony on his face. "Slow down, you…you animal…"

You couldn't. Not when he was clenching around you so perfectly, not when his broken moans were the sweetest sound you'd ever heard. You were on your second round, and while your body was still humming with energy, his was already reaching its limit. You could feel it in the tremor of his thighs, the way his breath hitched in short, desperate pants.

"Almost there," you grunted, angling your hips just so, hitting that spot inside him that made him see stars. "Come on. Give me one more."

He cried out, a raw, ragged sound as his orgasm tore through him, his body arching off the bed. Cum painted his stomach, and the sight of him completely wrecked and lost in pleasure, was enough to push you over the edge. You buried your face in Tony's neck, groaning his name as you cummed inside him.

Tony lay motionless, chest rising and falling in a rapid, shallow rhythm. His eyes were closed, his face pale.

"Tony?" You reached out and brushed a damp strand of hair from his forehead.

He didn't open his eyes. "I think…I think I saw the afterlife for a second there. It was surprisingly boring."

A small smile touched your lips. "You okay?"

"Peachy," he breathed, the word barely a whisper. "Just need a minute. Or a week. Definitely a week."

You watched him, your chest swelling with a fierce, protective love. He was so beautiful like this. Vulnerable, sated, and completely yours. But you also knew the look that was beginning to settle on his face.

You shifted onto your side, propping your head up on your hand. "Don't start."

One eye cracked open. "Start what? I'm not starting anything. I'm just decompressing. A man is allowed to decompress after being practically fucked into a new dimension."

"I can hear the gears turning from here. You're thinking about how you're in your fifties and I'm, well, this." You gestured vaguely to your own still perfect physique.

He finally opened both eyes and the vulnerability there made your heart ache. "Can you blame me? I feel like I've been hit by a truck. A very persistent, very well endowed truck. And you look like you could go for round three right now."

You leaned in, kissing him softly, a stark contrast to the raw intensity from moments before. "But I want you."

"You have me," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "But for how long? One day you're going to wake up and realize you're shacked up with a relic. An old man who can't even keep up with his boyfriends stamina."

You felt a surge of anger, not at him, but at the cruel voice in his head that told him these lies.

You moved then, shifting to hover over him. You framed his face with your hands, forcing him to look at you, to see the truth in your eyes.

"Listen to me, Tony Stark. I don't care about how long you last during sex. I don't care if we do it everyday or only once every month. You know why?"

He shook his head.

"Because I care about this. I care about you. Every laugh line, every gray hair, every scar. I want the man who built an arc reactor in a cave. I want the man who saved the world half a dozen times and still burns his pop tarts. I want Tony Stark. All of him."

You kissed him then, a deep kiss that wasn't about starting another round, but about reminding him exactly who he was to you.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were shining. The self doubt had been replaced by awe or just the profound, overwhelming reality of being loved. "You're too much."

"Good," you growled, nipping at his jaw. "You deserve too much. You deserve everything."

You settled back beside him, pulling his body flush against yours. He was still trembling, overstimulated and exhausted, but he melted into your embrace. His head found its place on your chest, right over your heartbeat.

"Just give me a minute," he mumbled into your skin. "Or ten. Maybe twenty. And some Gatorade. And possibly a full IV drip."

You laughed. "Whatever you need old man."

Tony pinched your side, but there was no heat in it. "Watch it, supersoldier. Even if I'm older, I still know how to pack a punch." Silence befell the room, but when you thought he might have drifted off, he spoke so softly you almost missed it.

"I love you."

You held him tighter, pressing another kiss to the crown of his head. "I know, Tony. I love you, too."

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