hotredhero | Private thread for greenisnteasy

Private thread for greenisnteasy

"See? I told you, it'll be fine."

That seems to be Tony's mantra when talking to Bruce. It's like he can bring intention into reality if he just repeats it enough times in his friend's presence. Working together is a good start. He's glad that they have managed to settle into something that comfortable, but he's ready to move forward. And that's what this is: a step forward.

Or a leap, depending on one's point of view. Tony is sitting next to Bruce on a couch, leaning over him with an arm over the man's shoulders so he can't escape. Not that he thinks Bruce really wants to escape, or that he could physically stop him if he did, but the idea is what matters here. Tony's making a point.

"So I've really gotta ask... What do you think about sex?"

And that is the other thing about dealing with Tony. Always go for shock value if you want an honest answer. Of course, he doesn't know what reaction he's going to get, but hopefully it won't be a bad one. If the line ends up hitting the wrong note, it can be a joke and they'll just be two friends sharing some time on the couch together in front of the TV. If it doesn't... well, he's hoping for that to lead them somewhere more.

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Oh, don't underestimate how much Bruce wants to escape. He feels -- not trapped, but the bubble of personal space he's used to having, to carefully crafting both for his sake and for everyone else's, is nonexistent, and he feels the pressure of Tony pushing in on him. It isn't wholly unpleasant, which is of course, the problem. He isn't doing it on purpose, but he's leaning away from Tony, back into the seat cushions, trying to regain some space.

The hard part about this is that Bruce wants to believe Tony. Why wouldn't he want to believe him? Why wouldn't he want to stop living like he is a time bomb? Why wouldn't he want... Tony? Not that he thinks that's what Tony's offering, but it's not like he's sure of that, either.

He shakes his head, dropping his eyes to the side, away from Tony. "It... happens to other people. Generally I don't think about it. Just saves trouble, in the long run."

Tony fully believes that Bruce doesn't want to leave. Or at least that he doesn't want to really leave. It's obvious that he's pulling away, trying to get space, but they've gotten close (Haven't they?); they've had a moment (sort of). And Tony isn't letting Bruce off the hook that easily. He doesn't let go. Instead, he brings his other hand around to rest on the front of the scientist's shirt, just under his heart so he can feel Tony's palm on him.

"Well, let's think about it. Just for now. Let's say there is no trouble. In theory. No one telling you what you had to do or expecting anything. What then?"

He's pushing, but he's not pushing. He's not holding Bruce there, but he's insisting. Gently testing his boundaries until the other man says no. And he hopes he doesn't say no. Tony keeps his eyes on Bruce's neck, speaking softly so he doesn't overdo the pressure.

Oh, Jesus Christ. His eyes flutter shut and then stay closed while he breathes, one slow, steady intake of breath while he just... feels Tony's hand on him. There's no mistaking Tony's motives now, is there? Which means the $10,000 question is what Bruce's motives are, or could be, in a world where he didn't have to think and rethink his actions. It's not like he's ever considered himself into men before, but Tony has wormed his way into Bruce's emotional space, not just the physical, and hardly anyone does that anymore. He does feel close to Tony, and that... That's significant. He's dazzled by Tony's charm, too, by his confidence, though he knows that it only goes so far. He understands that, too.

And God, he loves the way Tony looks at him. Sometimes it weirds him out to see that level of fascination or acceptance, but mostly it just makes him feel special in a good way. He likes being that for someone, and if that's just how Tony looks at him, how might he touch him? Bruce swallows thickly.

Okay. Question answered. He wants this. But can he have it?

He reaches up and lays his hand on top of Tony's, fingers curling around to his palm.

"You mean if I was free from the other guy?" He opens his eyes, and they settle on Tony's mouth before he can tell them otherwise. "I'm no expert, but I think this would be a prime moment for a kiss," he murmurs, voice low. "After that... Anything. God." He squeezes his eyes shut again and sucks in a breath. "Everything. It's been so long, you don't know."

Tony doesn't smile--that would be too much, considering he's trying to relax Bruce--but the edges of his lips do twitch just slightly. He likes this. This is good. A positive response from his friend, even hesitant, is like pure gold. He's in love with the way Bruce feels out everything; the way he analyzes it with his brilliant mind and takes it all in. He makes every experience count in a way that Tony, just because of who he is, simply can't fully fathom. He's happy to get to touch the beginning of that deep understanding, even as a bystander.

"I can't give you God, but there's always time for a kiss."

He purrs the answer. He can't resist--not when Bruce's eyes close at his touch and he sounds so hungry for it. Tony lives for that sweet response, and he makes good on his promise. Lips find lips as he kisses Bruce right there on the couch, letting his hand wander over the warm muscle under his shirt.

He doesn't know why he's still caught off guard by how he constantly lives between two extremes, but he is. Even while he's thrumming with how much he wants to cave in, pull Tony to him, and let the both of them just explore, his mind's crashing his body's part with a chorus of can't. And Bruce -- okay, so Bruce maybe has tried some therapeutic sessions on his own where he tries to keep his breathing and heart rate and everything balanced while he find some relief, but throwing another person into the mix complicates things all over again.

He wants to relax into the kiss, but he just can't. If anyone could make him, though, it's Tony, and the hand on his chest is calming, soothing. God, he's so confused, and he breaks away, but doesn't push Tony away.

"You said 'if.' If I could. The other guy is still a problem." He draws in a breath and makes a mistake -- he looks at Tony, and whatever ability he'd found to say no cracks, just a little.

"I wish he wasn't," he admits in a rush, the confession tumbling out of him almost unbidden. "I mean -- obviously, but right now -- with you, I wish..."

"Shh."

He doesn't pull away when Bruce does, and he doesn't look disappointed when the kiss isn't warmly received. Tony understands more than he often lets on, particularly when it comes to how much Bruce struggles. He knows it's not that simple, and he respects Bruce for how much he holds onto himself. He fights hard, even when it seems like he's just running away. But Tony wants to give him something else. An option that isn't about fighting or running, but being himself.

"It's fine. You're okay," he tells him, and he means it. He knows it's a hard road to convincing Bruce that he can let go of his fear without losing himself, but Tony is willing to take that challenge. "I trust you. And I trust him, too."

His hand is still resting on Bruce's stomach with his fingers tracing the lines beneath the cloth and Bruce's own hand holding on. Tony fixes his eyes on Bruce's and holds the gaze. There's no doubt or hidden apprehension in his look. He believes in the Hulk as much as the scientist, and even if Bruce isn't confident, Tony is. He doesn't have to pretend that he's not afraid, and he doesn't have to force the moment to be anything more than it is. The two of them sharing space, trying out this new kind of touch. Slow is unusual for Tony as much as close contact is for Bruce. They can learn together.

"We'll go slow," he murmurs. And for once in his life he's not rushing. Not trying to out-talk anyone. "Breathe. Just feel it... and kiss me. A kiss won't hurt."

He is okay, maybe he's even great and that's what's so scary; it's like that moment where you tip over the first hill of a roller coaster, and your stomach drops out from under you while you hover in those five seconds before the descent. He can't hover in that spot forever; he needs to move, forward or backward.

And, well. If he's already at that part of the ride, he can't really get off, can he?

Tony's right. One kiss won't hurt. All things in moderation, right? He lets his leash out in other things; he can have a drink, a little coffee here and there. Something tells him that it'll be much harder to cut himself off when the time comes here, but... They'll cross that bridge when they come to it. And that isn't something he decides lightly, but looking into Tony's eyes, holding their hands together, the purr in his voice...

"You're the worst enabler," he murmurs, throat dry. He lifts his other hand, lets it hover in the space between them, before he sets it on Tony's shoulder, palm flat and fingers spread out.

"I love that about you. Commit that moment to memory because by the end of the night, I might have changed my mind."

He smiles tentatively, this side of flirtatious, and then leans up. His eyes slide shut as he finds Tony's lips again, his kiss slow and sensual, with the sense of something simmering beneath the surface, something he's holding back. Bruce doesn't let himself think about anything other than the way their mouths meet, their breath mingling, his nose brushing Tony's cheek.

Life with Tony is a lot like a roller coaster, and he knows it's difficult for Bruce to really handle the ride. The thing is, he truly believes in Bruce. He doesn't just tell Bruce they are fine to convince him that they are or to convince himself. Tony knows in his heart (one of the few things he really knows) that this is right. That they will be okay. All he wants is for Bruce to see that as well.

Counting heartbeats is probably a lot like checking blood toxicity levels. You're just counting down how long you've got until you're done, visualizing that worst case scenario and waiting on the inevitable. An increased heart rate is Bruce Banner's blood test. Each check comes closer, psychologically, to that dreaded final result, which for Bruce doesn't go away after he hits it. It just hurts.

Tony knows this. He's aware of the anxiety and the fear, but sometimes you just have to let that roller coaster take you to the bottom of the hill once to realize you're not going to pass out from the drop. When Bruce concedes, he takes his opening. The kiss is sweet and slow, but Tony doesn't let it stay the mild start that he knows Bruce wants. He searches his mouth with his tongue, stroking and caressing and being just a bit dirty. They could have more, much more, and his hand wanders down to Bruce's waist, tugging up the hem of his shirt so Tony can reach beneath it and really touch the warmth hidden there. It's not crude. Just a sensual exploration of the man's body that he commits to memory, urging him to give him more; to let him touch and kiss every part of him right there on the couch.

"You won't change your mind," he assures him between kisses. His lips are still brushing Bruce's as he talks, quick and breathless. "It's gonna be good. All of it."

What he can't get over with Tony is how good he seems to want to make Bruce feel, and also the part where he's successful at it. The way he looks at him, touches him, reaches right through him and starts to turn something on deep inside. Not like that -- okay maybe a little like that -- but there's some self-acceptance, some... contentment that Tony's shaking loose. It's heady and intoxicating, and frightening because he knows he could lose himself in that so easily. With Tony so eager to give it, Bruce can only resist for so long before even his restraint will crack.

He sucks in a breath and stiffens at the hand on his skin, and now both hands clutch at Tony's shoulders, fingers flexing and seeming at the point of either pushing him away or pulling him closer. Bruce can't tell what he's trying to do here, either. He could think about it, or he could just force those little voices away and focus on kissing Tony back. Because, yes, the dirty tilt to the kiss is just what he'd wanted to add but been too hesitant to do himself. He's going to get dizzy on this, on being wanted so openly, so wonderfully, and by Tony of all people; Tony, who burns bright enough that Bruce gets a little buzz just standing next to him, most of the time.

He can't think of anything to say, nothing in response to the words murmured against his mouth, so instead he makes a small sound -- of assent, surprise, arousal, warning, a combination of all the above. Tentatively, he drags a hand down Tony's chest and then under his shirt, fingers gently exploring, touching, what Tony already offered to him before. His heart rate is climbing, but that's less of a trigger, more of a gauge for danger by this point. It really comes down to whether or not he can keep hold of his rational mind.

Tony can feel the shift, and he revels in it. He soaks up the little moments of consent like they were rays of sunlight from behind Bruce's permanent cloud of enigma. The man shields himself so well that no one seems to pick up on how much of Bruce is really there, quietly waiting, but present nonetheless.

He gets a little drunk on the moment. Bruce's willingness is everything that he wants, and he moans into the kiss when Bruce reaches up to touch him. He has to pull back to catch his breath, his muscles tightening as the fingers explore them. Tony hasn't needed anyone quite as much as he needs Bruce right at that moment, and if they end it here, before he really gets to feel him, he might not recover. That's what flashes through his mind as he pants Bruce's name and arches into him, losing himself momentarily to the need.

"Let me take them off. Bruce. Let me touch you..."

Which is the request he gets as Tony fumbles with his pants anyway, loosening them so he can reach beneath the cloth and stroke the arousal growing there. He's still being gentle. Fondling, not just jerking him off, but there's clear intent in his movements.

Later, when he looks back on this, this moment would seem so obvious. Of course Tony just goes for it, with barely any preamble, barely giving Bruce any time to prepare himself. Isn't that why Tony has always been something special in his eyes? His utter lack of hesitation is so exotic to Bruce at this point that just being near someone that daring gives him a contact high.

Well, he's definitely feeling the contact high now. He moans sharply, hips rising off the couch to press into Tony's hand, his arousal growing at the touch. His head tilts back, exposing his throat, and he clamps his mouth shut so he can breathe steadily through his nose as he scrambles for some kind of control. He takes tight hold of Tony's hip, the tension in his arm clearly an effort to keep Tony from getting any closer.

"Tony." His moan is somewhere between a warning and a plea. Is this a terrible idea? Probably. But the more Tony drags him into it -- even his resolve isn't strong enough to tell Tony no, at this point. He's going through with this, he's sure of it, and besides that, how tempting is it to stumble along, to let himself be touched and feel something again other than bitter resignation? And with Tony, of all people, who already makes Bruce feel honored to receive as much of Tony's attention as he does.

"Okay -- okay." He sucks in a breath and picks his head up, his fingers flexing on Tony's hip as he tries to reign his thoughts back in. "Yes, Tony, Jesus." Whoops. That turned into a groan. He shakes his head to clear it and tries again. "But give me time to concentrate so I don't... I could lose it here. Seriously. And I know you like the other guy, but probably not like that, so..." He squeezes his hip again, and then slides his hand up, gently touching his skin.

"A little self control, for both of us. Just a little. Just enough so... so we can have this."

Self control. That term is the bane of Tony's existence right now. All he wants to do is touch Bruce. To strip him down and kiss every part of him until he's bucking up into him without any worry or reason left. But of course Bruce would bring it back to sense. He's much more responsible and mature than Tony, and that part of him is something that Tony respects. He admires the mind that can so perfectly control his body.

He slows down enough to grudgingly give Bruce the space he's pushing for. The exposed throat is ridiculously tempting, but he likes Bruce. He does. So he holds himself back, groaning softly in protest and letting the pad of his thumb swipe over the tip of Bruce's cock. Now that he's gotten a taste of what the man is like when he's into the moment, he's not about to let him go that easily.

"Right. Self control, self control... You know, part of the fun is not stressing out over these things, Banner." Tony's teasing, though. He knows that Bruce needs that control, and he makes sure to be gentle, easing off of the contact while his friend regains composure. It doesn't stop him from teasing, though. Feathery light touches over his hips and up his navel, Tony lets his fingers explore the warm body beneath him with near reverence. Because he can, and he does want Bruce to feel special. He is special.

He smiles, pleased that wasn't a fight; don't get him wrong, he generally likes it when Tony pushes him, the most anyone can ever like being pushed out of their comfort zone, but in this area... he'd really rather not risk too much. He thinks he can attribute some of that to Tony's influence. Of course there's the obvious part where he doesn't want to Hulk out and hurt Tony, but he also just really, really wants this, to lose himself to this as much as he can safely. Keeping his self control is more about having this than not.

"Baby steps on the fun. I haven't had this much in a while. Don't want me to get overexcited and ruin the whole party so soon, right?" He smirks, and he dips his finger inside Tony's waistband, dragging it along until he gets to his fly. His eyes on Tony, watching closely, the heat burning just beneath the surface, he undoes the button and slips his hand inside. His fingers trace the shape of his cock through the fabric, and Bruce's breath hitches to feel the heat of him.

Bruce's seduction methods are far more slower than Tony's. They're about letting the heat build until he can't stand it anymore, until it nearly breaks him; while he loves that Tony just goes after what he wants, there's a part of him that wants to watch Tony squirm.

Tony's used to just going straight for what he wants. It's just part of his personality, and holding back can be a chore for a man that thinks at twice the speed of what should be considered normal. He rushes. It's not necessarily intentional, but most of the time it gets the job done.

And then there are moments like this, with the slightest changes firing off hot sparks in his nerves. His eyes are fixed on Bruce's, entranced by that intense stare. It's like he can see straight through him, and Tony loves it. It gives him that rush of excitement--adrenaline very close to fear--and the slow, methodical way Bruce touches him through his pants has Tony uttering a short moan despite himself.

"But I love it when you crash the party."

He doesn't know whether that is supposed to be an argument or complaint. It feels good, that much Tony knows, and he arches shamelessly into Bruce's hand with all the dirty enthusiasm that he knows Bruce holds back on. Eyes half lidded, he bites his bottom lip and looks down into that cool, even gaze that somehow is still steady despite being pushed onto the couch. He's got way too much control. It's unfair the amount of control Bruce has.

"Come on, I want it. You're not going to hold back on me, are you, big guy?"

He's still teasing. He's always teasing. But there's a note in his voice that wasn't there before. A deep, heady lust as Bruce's touch starts to cloud his senses. It's so little, but maybe that's why it affects him so much. Usually, people are all over him. If Tony's with anyone, they are usually fighting for control. Pushing, biting, playing as rough as they get. And that's fun. But the amount of restraint, being deprived of contact when he really wants it, that brings Tony to heel more than any amount of dominance ever could. He can feel his body shivering with anticipation, going weak at the slow exploration, and he has to grip the side of the couch to control himself.

"Baby steps. God, your baby steps are going to kill me right here, Bruce."

Okay, so he can roll with light touches. He can definitely give Bruce a very gentle brush of his hand down the man's chest. And over his hips. And he can patiently--god damn patience--slide his fingers along Bruce's inner thigh, urging his legs apart just enough to cup his hand between them again at a better angle. See? He's so patient. Even though Tony is cursing under his breath.

God, but he loves the way Tony can lose himself so shamelessly to all of this. His eyes are still on him because to look away seems like a waste of the display he's getting now. He feels hemmed in by Tony on all sides, but instead of feeling as if he's suffocating, it's amazing; he's immersed in Tony and the lust he's putting off, and he doesn't feel lost at all. Tony grounds him.

"I am going to hold back." His voice is thick and heavy, full up of the want that he's holding back otherwise; it has to find somewhere to tumble out, after all, and it finds an outlet there and in his eyes. His gaze is still steady, still unwavering and fearless in its directness, slowly burning up with a hunger. See, Bruce is keeping the other guy at bay, but when pushed to the edge like this, when invited to let his more primal urges come out, there's something predatory about him, fierce and unrelenting.

"I'll hold back until you really can't take it." He's surprised at his own daring, but he's comfortable with Tony, and the hand working its way up his thigh gives him the confidence he needs. When Tony touches him, his eyes flutter shut and his mouth parts, half a gasp caught in his throat. He wants to push up into that hand, but his first impulse is to self-deny, so he forces his eyes open again, locking them onto Tony's. He palms the length of his cock through the fabric once more before he finally touches him, skin-to-skin, though still probably not what Tony's looking for. He strokes his thumb firmly up the underside, and teases his fingers against the head, toying with him rather than touching him in any real way.

"How long do you think that'll take, Tony?" he murmurs, composure back.

He's not sure how so many people manage to overlook how amazing Bruce is. They're worried about the Hulk, sure, but it's amazing to him that they can miss the raw appeal Bruce has. He is every bit as smooth and seductive as anyone Tony has ever slept with, with the added bonus of intellect that makes him even more attractive. Bruce does play mild, but Tony can see the sharp humor in the comments he lets slip. The jokes he doesn't always hold back. And right now that humor is making him hard in ways he didn't realize he could feel.

"Don't. Don't tease me, Bruce." Tony is panting, grinding against the heat of Bruce's hand as much as he can now. His lover--can he consider them lovers now?--is so controlled, so steady, that Tony thinks he might lose consciousness before he manages to get them both stripped of all of these unnecessary clothes. Bruce is holding back as promised, and he might just kill Tony with that unshakeable restraint of his. And Tony is loving every second of it.

"I'll hold back if you want me to. But do you want me to? Come on, give me more. I want it. I need it, Bruce."

He doesn't look away, and he's being shameless with his dirty talk. It's part show, but in the best of ways. He wants Bruce to feel the eagerness in his voice like a vibration through his skin. The hunger for more might be flirting with literal danger, but Tony has never been afraid of flirting. Or danger, for that matter. Danger makes things all the more exciting.

And if Bruce is going to play coy, then Tony will just have to urge more out of him. He fondles Bruce's cock, letting his fingers slip down the length so he can tease the exposed skin around his hips, then strokes his stomach and up under his shirt to tease his chest with inviting fingers, urging him up into them. He gives him all the attention that he wants and Bruce is denying him. And why not? They complement each other that way.

Bruce tries to hold on, but Tony's giving him exactly what he needs -- well, it's more what he doesn't need, since the invitation to let go is only fraying his control even more -- but he definitely never lets himself be this free, never lets himself have so much. Really, he doesn't have much hope in being able to keep up that domineering control; he's known that he idolizes Tony in a way, as much as you can idolize someone with their faults included, but Tony is so big, and free, and eager to give, and he sweeps Bruce up in it without really giving him time to catch his breath. It's amazing, and frightening, and he wouldn't want it any other way.

He chokes off a groan, and tugs Tony in for a fierce kiss; it feels safer to communicate what he wants and how much he wants like that, because he's afraid to say it in words, almost like he's not allowed to say it in words. He barely allows himself to want anything, and if he really lets what they're doing sink in, he's afraid he might freak out and leave. He doesn't want to do that; he doesn't want to say no to Tony here, now.

His hand slips free from his pants to instead curl in shirt, pushing it up his chest.

"Off." There's no question that it's an order; there's something primal coming out in him, and he isn't sure if he should hold it back or not, so used to not trusting his instincts.

That one word is all it takes. Tony has never been one for taking orders, but that particular one he is more than happy to obey. It sends a thrill through him that might be excitement or instinctive fear, and whichever it is doesn't really matter all that much to Tony either. He scrambles to pull of his shirt, throwing it away once he gets free like it is offensive.

"Okay. Now your turn. Bruce. Bruce, please..."

His voice is husky, thick with lust and raw anticipation. Tony can't stop touching him, fingers trailing over every inch of bare skin he can find. The man really doesn't know how sexy he is, which is a shame, because he's got Tony's full attention and Tony isn't sure Bruce will do anything with it. And then he might just die. Right there on the couch. And that would be a complete waste of life.

"If you don't start touching me, I'm going to have to do it myself. And that's just not as fun for either of us."

He's just short of begging now, because it's Tony and he was never good at asking for anything, let alone begging. But he wants this. God, does he want it. He's making the extra effort because it's Bruce and he knows how hard it is for Bruce to say what he wants, so Tony's trying to fill in the gaps himself.

Bruce is just trying to keep his head above water here, which is hard to do when Tony's just about ripping his clothes off and talking about touching himself, all while pawing Bruce like he's some hot commodity that's going to vanish in 24 hours. It's overwhelming because Tony's crazy hot, and sexy, and the dirty talk is winding him up so much that it really is hard to keep a firm grasp of his control. But he needs to go slow; he needs to keep his head on straight, needs not to get lost in the eagerness that Tony's offering up.

He unbuttons his shirt calmly, but the way his hands fumble with the buttons give him away. He sits up to tug it off and sets it aside, and he tries to seem cool as he sits back again and reaches for Tony, but he swallows hard. His hands slide up his chest, touching skin to skin, and he exhales shakily.

"I wouldn't mind watching that sometime." His voice is even, strained with the effort to stay calm, and he skims his fingers down Tony's abdomen. "Not now though."

He frees Tony's cock, and his eyes drop down to take him in, loosely held in his hand. Oh, God; he's so in over his head here, but he isn't turning back now. Wrapping his hand tighter around Tony, he starts to stroke him slowly, eyes watching him closely.

Tony will never understand why Bruce doesn't have more confidence. He knows he's afraid of what might happen if he lets everything go, but at the same time, it seems like he's also self-conscious about so much more. And in Tony's opinion, Bruce is a hot commodity. He's brilliant and good looking, and transforming into the Hulk makes him able to help people even more. So it isn't really the detriment he sees it as.

But he can move slowly for him. He doesn't want to make this a bad experience. The way Tony looks at Bruce as he takes off his shirt is intent, eager to take in every bit of him. His eyes drift down to the other obstacle in his way, then back up to meet Bruce's again.

"Any time you want me, I'm yours." He hisses the last note, body arching up into the warmth of Bruce's fingers. His chin tilts up, exposing his neck, and there's a slow moan that escapes Tony's lips as Bruce starts stroking him. It's too slow, too light, and he's already biting his lip at the sensation. When he manages to control himself again, he leans toward him, cupping the back of Bruce's head with his hand so he can pull him closer.

This time he doesn't rush the kiss. He nibbles lightly at Bruce's lips, licking them with the tip of his tongue and kisses the corners of his mouth gently. He's used to being the one that pushes, but for Bruce, it's better to invite him to lead. He hums, softly

"Don't stop." He doesn't mean for it to come out as desperate as it does, but after he says that, he doesn't really care. If Bruce keeps going, Tony will gladly take attention.

Bruce is confident about some things, but mainly the only thing he's sure of anymore is the Hulk. If he gets into trouble, if people come after him, if he gets hurt -- the Hulk is there, either as the real, living thing, or as just the idea, just the threat. It's the most powerful weapon Bruce can wield anymore. Bruce has lost his vulnerability, especially when he's around people who realize what he is -- who. Who he is. But when the only thing you're sure of is your defenses, that doesn't really help when you need to let your defenses down, like now, with Tony, where he doesn't see the Hulk as some dark, threatening cloud.

Or maybe even he doesn't see the Hulk at all, not right now. Even when he was anonymous, mostly undercover, he never felt like he was ever really just Bruce because he was lying to everyone, but to Tony? He really might be. He isn't even sure he knows how to be him anymore.

With Tony putting himself on display like that, though, there's not a lot of room for him to worry about it. God, but Tony's incredible -- hot, obviously, but he's oozing a sensuality that's intoxicating, and Bruce can't help but get caught up in it. He tries to keep one foot on the ground here, but other than that, he decides to just focus on Tony. And not himself. Jesus, wow, he's self-centered, but no -- worry about that later. Tony's a living porno in his lap, and he needs to stop psychoanalyzing himself.

"I want you." His voice is low, and all the more earnest; that's a confession, that this doesn't have to be something huge, but he wants it to be something, and then he tangles a hand in Tony's hair and pulls him back into the kiss. He licks into Tony's mouth, kissing him deeply, more determined and sure of himself than he's been since they started. The kiss is fierce, and hungry, and pushing for more, and he works Tony's cock a little faster to match, slowing down only to tease his fingers against him.

There's a time for self-doubt. When you're dying--literally, when you know your body is giving up--and all you have to look back on are your regrets. On all the times you've been doing things for the wrong reasons and you won't be able to make up for that. A moment like that is great for self-doubt.

This is not a good time. Not when he's got a willing partner (Lover? Tony isn't sure Bruce would accept that.) and not when they're in the middle of this. Tony doesn't deny that the Hulk is there. Literally and metaphorically, he knows that Bruce always has the Hulk there, even when he doesn't remind people of him. Tony doesn't care. There will be time for Bruce to figure out who he is and how much of Banner is the Hulk or vice versa. Bruce doesn't seem to realize it, but to Tony, that's all trivial math. The man he's looking at, the one he's kissing when he's pulled forward into the delicious heat of his mouth, that man is fine just as he is. With the Hulk, and with Bruce too, because he's never gone away. He's gotten shy, maybe, but he's still there in front of Tony now.

"You can have me then."

Tony's answer is confident and simple. Bruce can have him. He already has him, and it's only after saying that that Tony realizes it. He runs his hands over Bruce's chest, up to his shoulders and then down his sides. He lets his fingers trail over his back, up and back down his spine so he can touch every part of him. His exploration gets quicker, more eager in response to the way Bruce strokes his cock, and he has to break the kiss to arch his back, letting out a small whimper as he bucks up into the rhythm. Something about Bruce's pace just resonates calm. Even when they are kissing each other like this, hungry and eager, Tony feels like Bruce has him caught in something deliberately slower than he's used to, and everything feels that much more intense. He drags his nails lightly down the man's back, nipping and licking at him, and letting Bruce kiss him until his lips hurt from the attention.

"You've got me," he says. It's almost thoughtless, just a statement of what is true breathed out on an exhale. "Not going anywhere. You've got me."

His words stay even and calm, even if he's lacking a lot of his usual voice, but his fingers hook impatiently at Bruce's pants. If anyone who knew him could see Tony now, they would probably laugh. He fumbles with getting under the hem, trying to slide the open pants down his hips by running his fingers over the curve of his ass, and Tony's so caught up in how much he wants to touch Bruce that he can't seem to coordinate the pants down his thighs. And when he finally does, he can't get enough. It's not a rough jump into a handjob that he gives him, but more exploration. Careful and attentive, but needy as he touches all of the new skin he can reach.

Bruce wouldn't accept 'lover' not because it isn't true, but because it is; that's what they are, or could be, and lover implies repetition, a permanence that Bruce is afraid to offer if he can't follow through. But just because he isn't offering it or openly accepting it doesn't mean he's successfully resisting, and Tony's confession robs him of even his cynical determination. Bruce might have to make sure he doesn't throw himself too hard into this, but by agreeing, by putting them this close, he's already giving himself to Tony.

He's only partially prepared for Tony to start undressing him, but it's strangely okay. Like, he still needs to worry about his heart rate, but he isn't afraid anymore; he's accepted this, and so when there are fingernails at his back, and his lips are red and sore from being kissed, he's okay. The calm he's putting off is definitely still firmly in place, though it's less a conscious decision and more a natural extension of being comfortable.

His breathing is hard and uneven as he tries to help Tony get him out of his pants, and he even laughs a little, softly, though that's gone almost immediately when Tony starts to touch him. He sucks in a long, shaky breath, and then tangles his hand in Tony's hair so he can pull him down. He sets their foreheads together, noses touching, but he doesn't kiss him; instead, he holds them still, so the focus zeroes in on the way their breathing hitches as they touch each other. Bruce's hand slows, his steady strokes turning into exploration, too.

"Tony," he whispers, voice almost breaking, and he curls his hand against he back of his neck, holding him tighter, closer. "You have me, too."

Maybe it's the permanence that keeps them both dancing around the truth. Tony avoids it because he knows it's something he doesn't deserve. He's already fallen in love once, and failed love once. He doesn't need to do that again with Bruce too. But this is different. This is an unnamed thing that is safe in how expected it is. As long as they keep coming back and expecting it, neither of them will ever have to admit how much it scares them. Because it's already permanent for Tony. He can't live without Bruce somewhere in his life.

Hearing him say that makes something catch in his throat, but Tony doesn't cry, so he pushes it back. It burns going down. He's still happy. More than happy, fingers caressing Bruce's hips and ass and sliding up and down his thigh as if he's reminding him what it feels like to be touched all over like that. He doesn't pull away when Bruce holds their heads together. He lets the tips of their noses brush and smiles. It's just like Bruce to be so intimate and so reserved at the same time. That talent is one Tony will always envy in his friend.

"I know." Just two words, and for once Tony doesn't sound like an asshole when he says them. It's simply trust. Trust in Bruce and trust in this, even if they aren't going to call it that, because he's sure that Bruce will be there if he needs him. It's a level of trust he wasn't sure he could give anyone, and he still knows Bruce may leave at any moment. If things get bad enough, he could vanish all over again.

Tony's fingers finally curl around the warmth of Bruce's erection, beginning a steady rhythm as he strokes him slowly and moves his head back so he can kiss the side of his neck instead.

"Tell me what you want. You can lie back and enjoy yourself, Banner. Don't think about anything else. Just this."

That smile, the tip of their noses touching; it's good, it's a reminder of what they are when they're not panting in each other's faces with their hands wrapped around their cocks. They're... them, a force to be reckoned with in the lab and anywhere else; they stuck it to SHIELD and their lies, and they figured out the scepter problem -- a little too late, but still. He slides his fingers up into the Tony's hair and tilts his chin for him, exposing his neck and throat; he swallows thickly, throat bobbing as he picks his words out carefully, concentrating hard through the hand on his cock.

"No." He shakes his head slightly, a quick movement. "No, I want it just like this." To emphasize his point, he wraps his hand tighter around Tony's cock and jerks him off at the same pace Tony's keeping for Bruce, thumb teasing against the head.

Licking over his lips, he goes a step further, and turns his head so he can find Tony's ear. His teeth graze the lobe before he kisses the spot just behind, tongue tracing around the skin. He draws back enough so he can murmur, and the vibration can carry.

"I want to see you come first. I want to watch you."

That wasn't what he had been expecting. It shouldn't surprise him--Bruce is amazing in so many ways and always keeps him guessing--but having the hand tighten around him and hearing him, feeling the words spoken right at his ear makes Tony's mind momentarily lose focus. He moans, wrist jerking impulsively as he forgets to keep control. For a few seconds, the only thing he can think of is yes, he wants to come, to let the patient sound of his friend's voice carry him over the edge right there. He barely manages to push it down; bring himself back into focus again.

"Damn it, don't do that." Tony laughs unsteadily, hips arching into Bruce's hand and his own hand following the strokes on his cock, echoing the pace Bruce sets. He likes to think that he's not a complete virgin here, pushed so easily into losing control by a little teasing and light play. But he's already near the end of his limits, voice cracking as he protests and bucks against the friction created by Bruce's palm. Tony is always the one leading, in or out of the bedroom. His pride is telling him he should resist it and try to hold out, but he's already dripping into Bruce's hand, despite what his mind may think of that.

"Please. Fuck."

He doesn't even know what he's asking of Bruce. Tony's words end in a choked noise and he jerks into the warmth of Bruce's hand, eyes closed in his release. It's embarrassing and deliciously sweet, and he rolls his hips helplessly as wave after wave of pleasure runs through his body. If Bruce was still doubting himself, Tony is letting him know just how much control he's willing to give him until he's confident.

Oh. Oh, God. Ideally, he should be able to say that he chose to lose control, that he held on until he decided to give in and let himself go. Watching Tony fall apart, though, feeling him jerk in his hand -- there's no way Bruce can resist being tugged along in the wake of that release.

It's frightening, once he realizes that he was so distracted watching Tony that he forgot to keep an eye on himself. One second he's zoned in on Tony, focusing on him, and the next a ripple of pleasure starts low, and his mouth falls open, a low sound coming out and surprising him with how close he is. He sucks in a breath and tries to fight it, to scramble to get his control back in place, but there's no stopping this now.

His hips lift with the effort of holding off his orgasm, but it takes him anyway, and his hips jerk with the force of it. He clutches Tony's shoulder, needing to feel grounded as the pleasure and the fear both work through him; he's waiting, waiting, for the feeling to tip over into the start of Hulking out, but it never gets there, and then he's relaxing back against the couch with a drowsiness creeping into his limbs.

His mind is still fuzzy when he hears Bruce moan, but it still reaches him. Tony can feel the way Bruce bucks up as he comes, and it's beautiful. Perfectly in sync so that his body feels the motion and moves with it, making Tony think that he might just have come again.

The sound Bruce makes as he loses himself in pleasure is something Tony will have to hear again. He's not sure if Bruce will be open to that any time soon--he probably wasn't eager to have it happen this time--but Tony is determined. He needs it. Now that he knows what it's like to feel Bruce come, he needs it. His mouth finds those soft lips, coaxing them into a kiss. A reward for tasting pleasure with more pleasure. Because Tony is a fan of excess.

He gently guides his friend back so that he's lounging on the cushions. Fingertips brush carefully over sensitive skin, feeling the relaxed ease in his muscles and teasing just lightly at heightened nerves. Bruce looks good when he's sated too.

"You're okay," he says. "See? Didn't I tell you everything would be fine?"

He wasn't planning on this happening, but now that it has? It might be a bad idea to keep it up, but the only reasons he can find for that are... well, stupid, or tangled up in fear. He has a heavy hangover from orgasms generally, so he lets himself be guided back easily, waiting for his body to resettle and his mind to clear. Once he has the sense of mind, he pulls Tony closer; if they're going to do the intimacy thing even when they aren't having sex, chances are much higher that there's going to be a second time.

"Yeah, but you tend to say that about me all the time." He exhales slowly, his eyes closed, as he visibly relaxes further. "Can we stay like this for a while? Are you comfortable?"

After sex, Bruce usually either needs sleep or food, and right now he'd much rather lay here with Tony.

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