"Steve has found, over the years, that getting tied up really turns him on. Now all he has to do is figure out how to tell Tony."
Steve's grown to accept the mantle of Captain America. He's learned to speak like he deserves to be heard, no matter what. But in private, in times of stress- with this, he feels himself going back in time to shy, tongue-tied little Stevie Rogers, flushing and blushing and fumbling his way through his words. And he's not sure he can explain this, anyway, even to Tony. It seems weird. It seems wrong, somehow, given the number of times he's been bound and held by villains; this kind of thing shouldn't be...exciting. And mostly it's not. He's never been in a holding cell that's the least bit pleasant. The little liquid quiver that stirs when they wrap him in restraints always wilts under the smell and the noise and the encompassing worry about what's going to happen next- to him, to his team, to the people depending on them. But that feeling is still there, and when he thinks about it happening in- in bed, in soft sheets, with warm rough hands and a hushed voice urging him on...
Tony's room is empty, but warm light spills from the open door of his closet.
Steve closes the door behind him. “Yeah.”
“My favorite super-soldier.” Tony appears in the doorway and grins at him. A jacket draped over a hanger dangles from one hand. “You seem to have caught me improperly dressed.” The grin turns into a leer, and Steve rolls his eyes to cover the answering smile spreading across his face.
“That happens so often with you, I'm starting to get suspicious.”
Tony hangs up the jacket, then turns to give him a wounded look. “Me? Plotting to corrupt the shining pinnacle of American purity?” He comes towards Steve, loosening his tie and lowering his voice as he walks. “Never.”
Steve reaches out and grasps the tie gently, reeling Tony in the last few inches for a kiss. “You might be a little late on the purity,” he says, low and smiling, and Tony huffs out a laugh.
“Maybe just a bit. Mmm.” His mouth is warm and whiskery; he hasn't managed to get his shirt off yet, for once, and Steve takes the opportunity to stroke over his shoulders, feeling the lines of muscle through the cloth. Tony makes an approving little noise and snakes his hands over Steve's back in return, fingers slipping beneath his T-shirt, and Steve almost purrs, his hands tightening over Tony's biceps. They make out for a while, slow and hazy and pleasant, and Steve has almost forgotten what he came in there for when he feels Tony's arm between them. He's working at the tie still around his neck, slipping the length of it free of the knot, and as it slides free of Tony's neck Steve darts out a hand to catch it. It's slicker than he expects, and he ends up with the tail end pinned beneath his palm, pressed tight against Tony's chest.
Tony chuckles; Steve can feel the vibrations under his hand. “You like this tie?”
“I-” It's a nice tie, now that he looks at it, a dark red the same tint as one of Tony's armors. “Yes, but that's not-” And Steve can feel the blush coming, prickling across the back of his neck and spreading up over his cheeks. “I have something I want to ask you.”
Tony's eyes immediately focus on him. “What's that?” His voice is light, but Steve can hear the concern in it; Tony's trained himself to go for the worst-case scenario every time. Steve leans forward and kisses Tony again, quick and reassuring, and is gratified to feel him relax slightly.
“It's not important. It's nothing, really.” Steve is unconsciously twisting the tie through his hands as he speaks. “It's something... I kind of wanted to try.” And the blush is pretty much burning up his ears now, two spots of heat alight in his cheeks, but Tony's smiling at him like he has all the time in the world, and Steve grits his teeth and goes for it.
The tie is slick in his hands as he stretches out its length. Two loops, overlaid; he pulls each through the other and slips the knot over his hands. It's not perfect, and Steve twitches the fabric back and forth until the silk is tight against his wrists. The tails are long and loose, and he ducks his head down, sets his teeth in the fabric and pulls the whole thing snug. As Steve tilts his head back, tugging on the fabric, he sees Tony out of the corner of his eye. Tony's mouth is half-open; he stares at Steve, eyes flicking between the tail of red caught between his teeth and the silken shine binding his wrists together.
Steve drops the end from between his teeth; the silk, damp from his mouth, flutters down between them. “Is this...okay? With you?”
Tony's mouth remains open for another moment. Then he licks his lips, slowly. “Yes. Yes, this is definitely okay. With me. Yes.”
Steve can feel a smile creeping over his face, threatening to overtake the blush. “Oh. I'm glad.” He lets his wrists drop. Tony catches them, cradles them in both his hands, and Steve can feel his panting breath before he sucks one of Steve's fingers into his mouth.
“You're glad,” Tony says, muffled as he licks over a thumb, and Steve has to laugh at that even as his breath catches. “Steve. Jesus.”
“Tony,” and Steve can feel that liquid curl again, low in his belly, and he arches against Tony, wanting more contact. “Ahh.” Tony's mouth is licking and sucking all over his hands, and Tony's hand is steady on his hip, guiding him backward towards the bed. Steve falls onto the mattress, and Tony is on top of him, folding his bound hands up against his chest and moving downward. Whispering into his ear, Steve, God, you're incredible, I'm going to make you feel so good, I swear, going to suck you off until you scream, going to fuck you for hours, Jesus, Steve, and Steve is twisting and moaning, hot silk against his skin and Tony's hands and voice and mouth all around him, and this might be perfect.