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."