By Any Other Name

by Nix
(crimsonquills AT gmail DOT com)

The back of the armor's chest plate is almost uncomfortable when Steve pulls Iron Man into his arms. Steve asked him to take it off once, but the 'no' had been firm and final. Steve doesn't know if it's because the helmet isn't secure without it or if there's another reason, but he could tell he shouldn't ask again. So the chest plate stays on, like the helmet stays on, and Iron Man gets to keep his secrets.

"Didn't you want to discuss training schedules?" Iron Man asks, but Steve has learned to hear the laughter in the disguised voice. He presses back into Steve's embrace, the ridges of the armor unforgiving.

"You know better than that," Steve murmurs. He presses a slow kiss to the seam where helmet meets chest plate.

"If you use that excuse too many more times," Iron Man's voice has grown a bit deeper, "the others are going to start wondering." His gauntleted hands cover Steve's and move them lower, to the releases on the groin guard. Steve fingers them lingeringly, until the mesh retracts and he can remove the armor.

"I guess I'll have to get more creative," Steve murmurs, but he's distracted by the heat of Iron Man's body under his hands now, Iron Man's cock hardening under his hand, tenting out the snug black briefs he's wearing. He rouses faster than anyone Steve has been with before, almost as fast as Steve himself, and God, Steve loves how responsive he is.

Iron Man discards the gauntlets on their way to the bed and Steve quickly pulls his boots and briefs off before stripping out of his own uniform and joining Iron Man on the bed. They can't kiss, not on the lips, but they have their own rituals. Steve lets his weight come down on Iron Man and captures his blue eyes through the helmet's eye slits and grinds against him, torturously slow.

"Steve," Iron Man whimpers, one hand coming up to cup Steve's face, his thumb stroking over Steve's lips.

Steve lets his eyes close and sucks that thumb into his mouth and laves it with his tongue. Iron Man makes a choked, helpless sound, his hips jerking up against Steve and his other hand convulsing on Steve's hip. "I want to suck you," Iron Man blurts out, his voice high and urgent. Steve's eyes fly open, tongue pausing where it caresses the pad of Iron Man's thumb, because to do that he'd have to take off the helmet, but-- "I can't," Iron Man goes on desperately, "but, God, I want to wrap my lips around you, taste you, feel you--" his breath catches "--sliding over my tongue. I want to see if I could take you all the way, open my throat for you, let you fuck it--"

Groaning, Steve lets go of Iron Man's thumb and pulls back so he can flip him over. Iron Man scrambles onto his hands and knees while Steve is getting the condom and lube out of the nightstand. He takes two of Steve's fingers easily, pushing back on Steve's hand with an impatient "Come on, come on!" and Steve chalks the easy acceptance up as another point in favor of his favorite theory as to who it is behind that faceplate, which only makes Steve's arousal spike; he fumbles as he slicks himself up.

"Oh, yeah," Iron Man moans deeply when Steve pushes inside. He's tight, but Steve has used plenty of lube and he slides in nice and smooth, even if Iron Man is making tight little sounds that aren't quite pained. Steve doesn't wait, just starts pumping in and out of him. He doesn't babble like Iron Man does, a flood of hot, urgent words, but he can't help the short, breathy cries of pleasure each time he buries himself in Iron Man's snug, eager ass.

"Steve," Iron Man pants, and something fierce flares up inside of Steve. He leans over Iron Man's back, one arm holding himself up, and grips Iron Man's cock tightly in the other hand and gets his mouth down where Iron Man's ear would be. "One day," he says hoarsely, "you're going to tell me who you are, or I'm going to find out, and I'm going to take you home, to your home," and Iron Man is gasping his name, over and over, "and when I come, I'm going to shout your name."

"Yes!" Iron Man cries, jerking into Steve's hand, and comes, begging incoherently, moaning Steve's name.

And Steve bends his head and kisses an armor-clad shoulder and tastes metal and fucks Iron Man harder, because he doesn't have a name to gasp.