hotredhero | Smut things for amygdalae

Bruce isn't really sure exactly what made him agree to do this. Certainly, Tony had been kind and generous in his offers, but something like this... well, Bruce's not sure what to make of it. In retrospect, he should have thought about this before saying yes--

--although really, when it came to somebody like Tony Stark, yes was usually the only answer one could ever say.

He twitches slightly when Tony places a palm on his thigh, almost jumping but not quite. Bruce has never been the most touchy-feely kind of person, even from young - but this was Tony, and it was nowhere dangerous, so Bruce forces himself to relax. At least for the moment. He could always make an excuse to leave if he had to, after all.

Hopefully.

"Kind of hard to impersonate your wall when it can talk back," is Bruce's reply, lips curling into a wry grin as he turns and sends and equally wry look towards the other. The joke eases him a little, making him just a little bit more comfortable about this whole thing. A first step, maybe. It's more than enough.

It's just the couch. He's not trying to get Bruce into bed just yet. Not that Tony would have any complaints if Bruce actually agreed to that, but he knows how nervous he is about contact.

This is an exercise of trust. Not in Tony, but in Bruce himself. One thing that Tony is good at is observation. He notices these things, and for better or for worse, he's taking it upon himself to get Bruce back a sense of comfort and self-confidence. This is about seeing himself as safe, and capable of contact.

He doesn't remove his hand at the jump, and the wry expression gets an honest grin out of him.

"See, that just means you're letting JARVIS win. You need to step it up, Banner."

Tony looks his friend over, seeming to seriously consider this plan of action before slipping off of the couch and turning so that he's facing Bruce from the front, kneeling right in front of his knees with his hand still in place on his leg.

"You need some help with relaxing? I can do that."

And help may just start with a massage, both hands kneading his thighs.

"I doubt your AI would be happy if the other guy started to smash through the walls," Bruce murmurs back a response, just loud enough for Tony's ears even though it's only the two of them in the room.

The echoes of his response only serves to remind Bruce further of that fact, and it is something of an odd feeling - one part uncertainty, two parts discomfort. The fact that Tony Stark is rich is about as obvious as the sun rising from the east - but still, being in a big and lavish room such as this only serves to remind Bruce of so many things he wants but yet can never have. Even comfort was a thing hard-earned for him.

Which is why he's so surprised when Tony suddenly gets on his knees in front of him with both hands on his thighs, and Bruce nearly jumps from the surprise. His heartrate picks up for just a second, but Bruce quickly squashes it back down - at least that's one thing he's able to control, instead of last time where any little thing could just set him off.

"I--you don't--" he starts, words failing him momentarily as he tries to form a coherent sentence through his surprise. He moves his hands, settling them on Tony's shoulders as he pushes the other man back, wanting him to stop. "I'm fine, Stark. You don't need to do anything."

Tony hears the words, and he hears the quiet behind them, like Bruce is trying to hide the Hulk by being softer. He shoots him a look that says he is not convinced. Tony has already accepted the Hulk. There's no reason to hide him here.

The change gets the reaction Tony was expecting--Bruce trying to push him away and backpedal out of reach, but he's persistent. He squeezes Bruce's thighs firmly and keeps eye contact, giving the stuttering man a stern look.

"Just relax, okay? Nothing's going to happen. Bruce."

He adds the last part to get his attention. If there is one thing Tony knows how to do, it's grab attention from those around him. He has to stand up to avoid being shoved back, but he's leaning over Bruce and in a way that does help give him a better angle.

"Just breathe. I promise, the walls are going to be fine."

The stern look - coupled with the use of his name - freezes Bruce in place for a moment, his body tensing, caught between uncertainty on what Tony would do next - or worse, what Bruce thought Tony might do. In his experiences a look like that never bodes well for him; usually what he got next was a threat to leave, a warning to stop being around - or worse.

It's a bit of an accomplishment that Bruce manages to look Tony back in the eye through the whole thing even as the other man leans over, because really all that he wants to do is to cringe away and retreat back into his shell. Confrontations of any sort is not something that Bruce is fond of - its uncomfortable and its too close to danger and Bruce just doesn't want to take chances with anything he can actively avoid.

He can feel his skin crawling, and every part of him simply wants to bolt out of the couch but Tony is blocking his way and Bruce doesn't exactly want to fight it out with him. He curls his hands into the couch, trying to steady himself as much as he can even though he can feel his heartrate paicking up from his nervousness.

"It's not the walls I'm worried about," he eventually manages, voice still quiet. Still small. Still trying not to be heard, somehow.

"Hey, it'll be fine."

His voice softens when Bruce tenses up. He's not backing down, but he's not yelling at him, and he doesn't want Bruce to feel that way. Tony leans over him, one hand moving from thigh to shoulder, sliding behind it and up to cup the back of his neck.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Promise. Sometimes you have to trust people, Banner."

But talk is cheap, Tony knows that, so he decides he probably needs to back up what he's saying. He leans down and kisses him. It's quick and not invasive, but it's there. A warm brush of lips against lips and his fingers curled in the hair just at his neck. Bruce isn't the only one wanting things he can't have. It may seem stupid, but this is important to Tony as much as anything is.

"I'm not afraid."

Words are cheap, indeed - Bruce has never been one to take words for what they were. Far too long has he been tricked by words, things that can mean so many other things, one of the many tricks of the trade that people use and have used on Bruce to try and get what they want. Truthfully he hates them, sometimes.

He tenses even further when Tony leans in close, far too close, and Bruce wants to tell him to back off, please-- but then there's the brush of lips against his, gentle and barely there but it makes him pause anyway because--because he doesn't know how to respond to that. Inimancy is something that's been long gone from the list of things Bruce is good at, not that it ever had a lasting place at the start.

"Don't," he breathes out, trying to be rational, to be logical, but since when did anything logical apply to Tony Stark? Bruce squeezes his eyes shut and attempts to steel himself again, trying to hold himself together when he can feel a part of him wanting to splinter apart. "I know you're not."

Tony was never the problem, after all. He was.

"I want to," he answers. He doesn't know if he can stop. He always keeps coming back to him. It's beyond just wanting to get laid or even be near a friend. It's a pull, like a magnet, and Tony doesn't know what to call it other than an undeniable force.

"I'm not afraid and you don't have to be."

He says that because he believes it wholeheartedly. Whatever SHIELD and the rest of them might think, Tony doesn't doubt for a moment in who Bruce is. He's been denying himself intimate contact for so long that maybe he forgets how to accept it, but he damn well deserves it. And Tony's not going to let anyone keep Bruce from having that--not even if anyone is Bruce himself.

I didn't hurt you, did I?"

And there is genuine concern there, too, because it's stressful. He knows it is. "You can trust me, Banner. I've got you."

He doesn't let go. He keeps close to him, both hands in place on Bruce's body, stroking gently where they are sitting and trying to soothe the tension he's got beneath his skin.

The thing is that Tony makes it all sound so simple, but the truth of the matter is that it's not. There are far too any triggers, too many worries, too many things that could go wrong and Bruce doesn't want to risk it all for a moment's worth of impulsiveness for something that - won't help him or either of them in the long run. Tony doesn't deserve that.

He shifts a little under Tony's hands, trying to wriggle away, or get more, or something - Bruce isn't sure what his body wants. But whatever his body does want is most likely something that isn't that all good.

Bruce worries on his bottom lip for a moment, waging a silent war within himself even as he replies. "It's not that easy, Stark."

This isn't some fairytale where he can say 'yes' and everything would be alright. Life wasn't like that.

The answer earns a face from Tony that is equal parts surprised and offended.

"Of course it's not."

That's as close as Tony can get to saying duh without actually saying it. Not "obviously" or "I knew that", but an openly childish, affronted tone to match his expression. That said, though, he recovers quickly, smiling with a not-quite-amused quirk of his lips.

"Nothing we want is easy to get in life. If it were easy, do you really think I'd be dressed up in a metal suit?"

The smiles fades just a bit, but not because he's giving up.

"If you really want something, it's not a question of how easy it is. You just can't let go."

This is the man that walked through the desert with a magnet in his chest. He's not into fairy tale answers to begin with. As much as Bruce wants to avoid the situation, Tony knows that it's not helping either of them any more than grasping it is. And, if they are both honest, the end was never avoidable anyway. He keeps his hands where they are, not letting Bruce escape them.

A part of Bruce knows that if he fights against the hands trying to put him down, there is a decent chance that he might win. But Bruce doesn't want to fight against Tony, and especially not for something like this. But at the same time he really doesn't want this to escalate any more than it already has. He knows what Tony is trying to do and he understands it, certainly, but--

"Maybe I can't, but I have to all the same," he answers, eyes closing again. He can't do this while Tony is so close to him, far too close. He wants and he needs and he yearns, but if anything Bruce is the master of suppression and he squashes all that down before they can get a grip anywhere. "I can't risk this."

Not for something like this.

"No, you don't."

It's not a simple answer. Tony knows it's not, but nothing worth having has ever been simple. Maybe it's ironic that a guy in his position would think like that, or maybe it's just carryover from Howard's upbringing, but Tony lives by the idea that everything takes work.

So he presses. Literally. He leans over Bruce, resting his hand on the flat of his stomach.

"It doesn't always have to end up that way. You can handle this."

It's cheating, he knows, because Bruce can't really run away from him when he's practically in his lap, but he's not going to get through otherwise. Tony closes the distance between them, capturing Bruce's lips with his in a full kiss, and if Bruce tries to get away, Tony will block him with his own weight. He can turn him down when he's not doing that out of an assumption everything will always go wrong. Right now, Tony is pretty sure this is exactly what he needs.

Bruce sucks in a sharp breath when Tony presses down on him, eyes opening and widening just a little. Both his body and his mind continue to wage a war between themselves, alternating between fight or flight when he knows it's really neither of them. He trusts Tony, he does, and he wants to believe in those words and he really should stop thinking and try to do something because Tony is leaning in far too close.

He tries to move, to back away before Tony tries anything but it's hard to do anything when there's a guy practically in your lap and the backrest is preventing him from going back any further. Bruce opens his mouth, wanting to tell Tony to stop this but Tony's closed the last inch between them and - and Bruce can't think.

His mind blanks out for a moment, too caught up with the fact that Tony Stark is kissing him to register anything else. It's been a long time, far too long, and his body selfishly betrays him for something it has been denined of far too long. Bruce squeezes his eyes shut yet again as an involuntary groan escapes from the back of his throat, a shudder running throughout his entire body.

For a man whose life was all about control, Bruce was rapidly losing it.

Tony doesn't hesitate. He parts his lips, urging Bruce to let him deepen the kiss, to let him suck on his lip and tease his tongue with his own. His hand slides up Bruce's stomach under the thin shirt, petting him in slow, seductive circles as he urges his body up against his own. It's all done with gentle insistence, and Tony is already shifting on the couch so he can slide his knee between Bruce's legs for better friction.

Forget control. Control can come later, when he's not convincing himself that he can't have what he wants. For now, Tony is going to press Bruce back against the couch and fondle the doubt right out of him, mouth locked with his in a dirty embrace that's question for more. He pushes the shirt up, out of his way so he can get both hands on Bruce's body. The shudder earns an appreciative hum right against his mouth.

It's hard, he knows it is. But these things will never get easier, and sometimes the only way to get what you really want is to force your way through. This is Tony forcing them forward for both of their sakes, moaning softly as an invitation to keep Bruce distracted while he leans forward and rubs against the warmth between his legs.

It's embarrassing how quickly Bruce finds himself losing control over the situation, but maybe it shouldn't have been so surprising. It's been far too long for him, and when both his body and mind is so starved for the simple touch of another human being he only finds whatever self-control he had crumbling down quickly, like a dam threatening to burst.

His mind is still stuck on the loop of lips-hands-touch that makes his body shiver as goosebumps rise on his skin. His arms feel like lead, lying uselessly at his sides on the couch even though his fingers twitch with the need to simply touch. Tony is touching him everywhere and it feels too good, and he wants this to stop but he can't bring himself to do anything at all.

And then Tony's leg slips between his thighs, rubbing against him just in that way and the figurative dam from before simply bursts. Bruce gasps loudly into Tony's mouth as he feels himself reacting, pants tightening while his thighs tremble with the need to move back against that friction.

This is what they both need, and Tony is sure of that even if Bruce isn't. He takes that gasp as encouragement, licking and kissing Bruce's mouth until he's sure the man's lips are bruised, and even then he doesn't stop. His fingers work quickly to open the front of those tight pants, reaching underneath the cloth so he can stroke his length.

Bruce doesn't need his self-control here. Tony is persistent about that. He kisses along Bruce's jaw and down to his neck, biting the skin at the dip where it meets his shoulder. He can feel his friend trembling, and that's good. It means he's enjoying it. He deserves all the pleasure he's been denied so far.

So Tony doesn't stop or slow down. He just runs his hand up and down along the thick shaft of Bruce's erection, thumb stroking the rim of his flushed head. He nudges his thighs further apart with his knee, trying to get Bruce into more and more suggestive positions until he really is arching with his hips forward into his hand.

"I want this," he whispers against him. "I want you to feel everything."

It feels good. Everything feels far too good, really, and Bruce feels himself systematically breaking apart piece by piece. The walls he had built up for years crumble away in the span of a few minutes as a hand wraps around his cock and starts stroking. And when something like that happens, it's hard to simply keep quiet.

A moan escapes from Bruce before he can help himself when Tony bites at his skin, and as Tony nudges him to move he blindly moves his arms, his hands scrabbling to hold onto something to ground him down. He stares at Tony in a mix of need as well as fear, trying to keep his eyes open while his body gives in, hips into Tony's hand almost desperately.

"Stark," he manages out, still trying to hold onto whatever coherent thought that's in his mind. "Stark, please--" Bruce finds himself cut short by another sound that's threatening to come out, and so he falls silent, biting on the inside of his cheek in a bid to keep himself quiet.

No, there's no getting out of it this time. Bruce usually manages to dodge the subject and keep himself at a distance, but Tony can't keep watching him deny himself happiness. Not when he's right there to fix it. So this time he's going to give Bruce what he wants, even if he's afraid to take it. Tony isn't taking no for an answer.

"It's all right, Bruce. I've got you."

His voice is husky, thick with desire, and he laps at the underside of Bruce's throat with his tongue before pulling back to meet his eyes. There's no fear there. Just lust and warmth to make up for the fear he can see when he meets Bruce's gaze. There's a soft hum of Tony's zipper sliding down, and after a few moments he is pressing his hot length up against Bruce's cock, holding them both together.

"Just let it happen. It's okay."

He catches Bruce's lips for another kiss, stroking them both together.

His throat feels thick at Tony's words, swollen by his attempts to suppress all the noises that he wants to make. Bruce keeps his gaze locked on Tony as he watches the other man move, his gut twisting itself into knots as he feels himself hanging over a metamorphical cliff as tension winds through his entire body.

"Sta--" he tries again, and this time he's cut off with a wholly involuntary moan when Tony moves in, pressing their cocks together. It's hot, too hot, too good, and Bruce shudders and moans again as he thrusts blindly against that heat, lost to it.

This time when Tony kisses him Bruce can't help but let him invade his mouth throughly. He belatedly realizes that he's actually grabbing Tony by his arms as his fingers curl into the sleeves of his shirt as he tries to hold on while he gives in to what his body wants as he tips over the cliff and going into freefall.

He knows that Bruce might not forgive him for going this far. It's a push he wasn't ready for, and that can end up hurting him as much as helping. But he truly believes he can help Bruce across that barrier he's put up, and damn it, he's going to help him no matter what it takes. So he doesn't pull back even when he hears the attempt to protest.

He swallows that moan with his mouth over Bruce's. His tongue strokes his friend's, teasing, urging him to respond to the kiss by prompting hot friction. And his hand doesn't stop either. When Bruce thrusts, he holds them together, letting him thrust against his cock and between the loop of his fingers. The more friction the better.

Bruce looks amazing like that. Eager and caught up in his arousal, and Tony lets his fingers play at the tip of his cock, stroking the head so he can add even more stimulation to the moment. There's no real stopping now, and he wants it to feel as good as he can make it. At least before Bruce comes to his senses again.

Bruce is far too focused on the present now to think about what happens after this, caught up in the heat of the moment and everything else to consider the consequences. He's fallen over the edge, lost to his own need and want because this is one of the few things he can't wholly control - not when it's already gone this far.

He lets out another wordless sound of pleasure as Tony moves his hand, getting on with the program as he tentatively returns the kiss. It's clear that Bruce is rusty and out of practice, but what he lacks in experience he makes up for in his momentary eagerness. Bruce buckles his hips when Tony rubs at the tip of his cock, and his hands scrabble for purchase once more.

This time he buries his fingers into Tony's hair as he grows more desperate, his thrusts starting to grow more and more erratic. He can't think beyond the haze of need and want, the heat of Tony's hand and cock on him - doesn't want to, really, because thinking too much had never led him anywhere good.

They're far past moderate now, and Tony hums with satisfaction at the noises Bruce is making. The kiss is stuttered and awkward and damn near perfect because of it. Because it's him, and he can make that kind of thing elegant. The way he bucks into Tony's hand, thrusting up purely on instinct and want, that is what makes Tony's breath catch. Because Bruce is all raw lust when he really lets himself enjoy it, and no one else can look as good.

"Come on, tell me you don't want it."

He's egging him on, purring husky words against wet lips and letting his hand tighten so that Bruce's thrusts are getting more friction from the movement. Tony is pushing harder now. Urging him to think enough to respond, but at the same time distracting him with his free hand tangling in the thick locks of hair, gently tugging Bruce's head back so he can suck at his neck. Forget rational thought. That's the unspoken command he's giving. And it is a command, because Tony bucks his own hips forward, rubbing their hardened cocks together, just in case Bruce even considers trying to pull away.

"You can't come yet," he murmurs. "Not yet, Bruce."

He can't pull away. He doesn't want to pull away, because this is far too good and whatever chances Bruce had of stopping this was long gone by now. He squirms against Tony's hands, his breath coming out in stuttered gasps that turns into a whine when Tony moves to his neck again. He tightens his grip on Tony's hair, tugging at it mindlessly, wordlessly asking for more.

"Stark," he manages out breathlessly as he tries to pull his mind back together just enough to think, to respond. "Stark, I can't--" He wants to come, needs to come. It's been far too long and he's desperate for it, desperate to let it all go as soon as he can. They could do this later or whatever but he just--needed it.

He tries to push harder, fucking himself desperately into Tony's hand and against his cock while another moan falls out from his lips, need and want clear in that sound.

He knows. He does, because he knows how hard Bruce fought to even come this far. But Tony knows that he'll fight again later, and right now he's trying to prove a point. A sacrifice now to make things better in the long run. He laps over Bruce's throat with his tongue, letting his breath trail hot on his skin. The thrusts are hard and desperate, and Tony keeps him from rubbing himself off right there. Just a little longer.

"Tony," he corrects him. Because this is important now, while Bruce is still in the moment. "Just Tony."

And really, that's all he wants. He tightens his grip, stroking them both with quick, deep strokes that match Bruce's eager thrusts. He's not holding back anymore, and Tony answers that lust-driven motion with raw carnal pleasure given through his fingers and his own erect cock pressing back against Bruce's. He closes his mouth over Bruce's throat, kissing him hot and dirty right under his Adam's apple. There's going to be a mark later. At least right now he's giving Bruce exactly what he wants. He doesn't hold back this time. When Bruce fucks into his hand, Tony curls his fingers to stroke him along the whole way.

With the way Tony is riling him up, pushing him closer to break apart its impossible to properly quell down the sounds that are coming from his throat. Bruce cries and moans and arches into Tony's hands and mouth and cock, reaching up towards the peak.

He hears Tony correcting him, and its like flicking a switch - Bruce squeezes his eyes shut as he repeats the correction, chanting it mindlessly like a mantra he wants to remember. "Tony. Tony, Tony--please, Tony, I can't, Tony--"

Bruce continues to utter Tony's name like a prayer, almost babbling incoherently up until Tony marks him on his throat. A shot of pure lust rides up within him and Bruce chokes on it, his entire body freezing for a moment before everything falls apart. Bruce lets out a half-choked sob as he comes harder than he had ever remembered himself coming, spilling over Tony's hand as he shudders violently through his orgasam.

Smut things for amygdalae

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