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.