¶ ironstrange
( this meme. ) // ¶ our muses having desperate, passionate sex // @thropics
anytime he fell into stephen's bed-- or, well, it wasn't exactly always a literal bed now was it? but, besides the point, anytime he ended up tangled up with stephen, it always seemed to feel like the most intense it could get. some people acted like sex were some chore. for tony it's never been that, it'd always been a heady addiction. something he chased down with as much reckless abandon as he did anything else in his life.
with stephen, it was no different. tony went after what he wanted without hesitation, almost every damned time. this was no exception to that rule.
if anything, this was one of the easier time to seek stephen out.
post battle, and not just on his front either. one of those rare and intense times when their worlds crossed over. it's been a long and tiresome fight, but that didn't exhaust tony like it maybe should.
if anything, he felt wired. too alert. like the off switch he was so desperate to find just couldn't be reached. he knew stephen could always find a way to it. and he knew the getting there would be damned beautiful for them both.
the way tony moves them is anything but gentle, but that doesn't mean it's without care. it's just-- hungry. it's desperation. it's a need to make stephen feel just as good and it's about feeling anything other than the nerve wracking post-fight angsty. tony's hands are greedy as they roam across stephen's skin, gripping, squeezing before he pushes against his chest, enough until their positions change and tony can look down at the other.
there's a fondness, for a brief moment, as he looks at him. something real beyond the heat. but it's burnt out, scorched, the moment tony sinks back down on stephen again. his head rolls back with the moan that shudders out of him and he wastes no time in resuming the pace. they both know what this is, what they need. if there's every a time for sweetness, it can wait. right now, only that fire burning between them gets attention. tony brings his hands down, nails pressing to stephen's chest and he lets out another groan as he moves faster-- relishing that sweet burn to his thighs.
when he kisses stephen, it's to stop the trail of filthy words that threaten to leave his lips. he's too breathless, too fucked out of it already, he knows how they'll come out. pleading, desperate, instead of the intended intensity. it's already enough that every look from stephen-- every touch has him shaking. he doesn't need to go and make it worse all by himself.
so instead he bites down on his lip, tastes every part of him as he moves harder, driving the heat higher and higher. and he refuses to plead till the very last moment.
