hotredhero | Smut things for amygdalae

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.

The way he sobs and the jerk of his body eagerly thrusting against him drags Tony over the edge as well, his seed mixing with Bruce's as he spills out between them with a hiss between his teeth. It's much more intense with Bruce. So much more, and hearing his name uttered like that, well, he could get to love it if only Bruce would agree. Tony holds Bruce through the intense shudder. He rocks with him, and as the rhythm starts to die down and Bruce's body loses tension, he eases back, fingers becoming loose around his cock.

He lets him ride out the sensation, kissing his neck and then his jaw with an affectionate brush of his lips. He's still practically in the man's lap, but Tony is careful to touch him only with light, careful affection. Once the room stops spinning, he leans forward enough to plant another kiss on Bruce's lips, murmuring against them afterward.

"See? I told you I've got you."

He speaks softly, but protectively, letting the fading high of orgasm echo between them. Then he leans back, slowly finding his feet again next to the couch.

The high sticks with Bruce even after he's shaken himself dry and for some reason he can't seem to push himself to care, at least not for the moment. It's almost as if his body is reluctant to let his mind regain control after all of that, unwilling to break this moment that he has. He makes a soft sound as Tony lavishes attention onto him, soaking it up greedily while his mind still isn't in the way.

Still, it is just a matter of time before logic and reason comes back to the forefront just as Tony kisses him, and Bruce feels his heart stopping for just a moment as the reality of everything comes crashing back onto him. He just had sex with Tony Stark. Not full-blown sex, foturnately, but he had cut it pretty close, all things considered.

Bruce closes his eyes once more and tries to center himself even though all he wants to do is to leave right now - but doing that wasn't going to help anyone, even if the option sounded very good to him at the moment. Instead he tries to concentrate on the very present, first by tucking himself back in even though his pants are pretty much ruined now.

"That," he starts slowly, making sure that Tony can hear him - making sure that Bruce can hear himself. "That was... not a good idea."

Tony is already fixing his clothes. It's not perfect, but at least he's somewhat presentable at a glance. He looks up from buttoning his pants, head still tilted down as Bruce speaks.

"It was a great idea. We both needed it, and you enjoyed it. Stop pretending that you don't like my hands on you."

He's being a little blunt. Maybe a bit more like the Tony Stark who went into the cave in Afghanistan rather than the man that came out, but it's all a means to an end right now. He knows Bruce will keep withdrawing back into himself until there's nowhere else to go, and eventually he'll run out of room.

"Look, it wasn't a good idea with everyone else, but I'm not everyone else. And I won't let anything happen to you."

Bruce pointedly keeps his gaze away from Tony, staring at the stains of his pants after zipping them back up and telling himself that digging his nails into anything really won't do much good at this point, as much as he wants to.

Tony made sense, of course - but at the same time, the points that Tony made was pretty much the crux of the matter for Bruce. Tony wasn't like anybody else - he was Tony, and if he had to be honest with himself he liked Tony, liked everything about him and how he wasn't afraid of him at all. But it was because of that Bruce was afraid that he could hurt him. Hurt Tony, the first person in a long, long time who he had come to care for a lot more than he really should.

"It's not me I'm worried about," he mutters, almost an echo of what he had said much earlier, before all of--this. "You shouldn't have--what if something had happened?" He wouldn't have been able to stop it, and Tony--he would have been hurt, or worse. Bruce didn't want to think about that possibiity, but it was there.

"It won't."

The answer is firm, a bit stern, because Tony is adamant about this. He bends down to crouch in front of Bruce, both hands coming to rest on his knees.

"Nothing is going to happen."

Tony tries to meet Bruce's eyes, to let him know that he's okay and to convince him that it will stay that way no matter what they do. It's something he needs to get through to Bruce, even if that means being pushy and physical. In the end, it'll be better for him. Tony frowns, then continues on, pushing even closer so that he knows Bruce is listening to him.

"Whatever was going to happen already happened in front of the tower. I... I should have died, but I didn't. You saved me. He saved me, so you're gonna have to let me trust him on this too."

Tony's insistence both comforts and bewilders Bruce. As... relieving as it is to know that there's somebody who doesn't fear the other guy, Bruce also doesn't understand why Tony trusts him so much. How can Tony put this much stock in him when Bruce can't even come to trust himself?

He raises his head just a little, enough to meet Tony's gaze as he worries on his bottom lip, uncertainty clear on his features. "That was just a one time thing. Next time you might not be as lucky." Next time, the other guy might just hurt Tony instead - and that's one of the last thing that Bruce wants.

Tony might be reckless and stupid a lot of the time, but he's aware enough to know who to trust. It would be nice to say he was just that optimistic, but the truth is that Tony Stark works with facts. It's a fact that the Hulk protected Bruce, and it's a fact that he saved Tony, even during the heat of that battle. This isn't blind trust he's placing in his friend. It's a pattern, something Tony recognizes as Bruce's own subconscious desires and reactions translating through the Hulk. He doesn't trust himself, and sometimes bad things happen when you don't trust yourself. But Tony's sure that this time they are both safe.

"It's not luck. Remember? We both should have been in a lot worse shape already, but we're not. And it's got nothing to do with being lucky."

Tony takes the opportunity to lean forward, stopping just short of giving Bruce another kiss there on the couch. He can feel the man's breath and he imagines he can even hear his heartbeat. But that's probably just his imagination.

"It's my life. Let me take this chance with you."

There's not much room that Bruce can lean back, but for what it's worth he still tries anyway, attempting to put more space between himself and Tony as the other man leans in. And god, it's hard to even try and keep said distance now when he's in so close again. A part of Bruce wants to erase that last inch between them and end this tiring conversation.

But control is something Bruce desperately needs right now, and he exerts it the best way he can - he curls his fists up against the couch, jaw tightening as he looks at Tony and reminds himself that he's risking far too much for his own selfishness.

Even then, he can't help but ask the one question that's been sitting in his mind for a while already. "Why?"

Why would Tony risk everything for this? Why would he do it for him? Why even bother trying at all when Bruce knew he wasn't worth it? Why him, of all people? He needed to know.

Tony isn't leaning back. He's not pulling away unless Bruce makes him--and he hopes that Bruce won't actually make him. What he really wants to do right then is lean in and give him another kiss. He wants to suck on his lips, tease him, press his tongue inside Bruce's mouth and taste him inside and out. And he wets his own lips, still leaning in close, unashamed of his own desires. After all, it's not like he can hide them.

"Because," he answers. It's a Tony kind of answer, because he knows the answer is never simple and never going to be simple. Sometimes the answer you give has to be simpler than the reality. "Because I want to. I need to do this."

Need. That's what it is. Tony needs to help Bruce because he can't help himself. They are a lot alike. Both brilliant in ways, both challenged. But where Tony got the glory and fame, Bruce was cheated out of his victory by pure luck. Something in Tony recognizes that and simply can't accept it. They're the same, and he needs to set this right. For both of them.

Maybe there's another way to say that. He knows there is, really, but he can't bring himself to say the words. Brown eyes drop their gaze to Bruce's unmarred chest. Why? Why does his heart beat a little faster when he sees him? Tony knows why, but even if he admitted to it, he isn't sure Bruce would believe him.

Edited 2013-03-21 08:28 (UTC)

He wants to believe, and he also doesn't want to believe. Bruce wants nothing more than to trust in Tony and let him prove those words right, but at the same time thinking about all of this - the mere possibility of this - makes a part of Bruce want to pack up and go far, far away. He's never been good with stability, with a sense of permanence. He thinks about it and runs away, because he doesn't know how to handle it at all.

Bruce listens to Tony's words and understands some of the intent behind them, knows a bit of what he's trying to do. Knows that Tony is trying to help put him back together but Bruce knows he's far too broken to be ever put back properly. But he still wants Tony to hold him. Needs it, really, just as Tony had said he needed to do this.

He slowly reaches out, almost hesistant, gently placing a palm on Tony's chest, over where the arc reactor lies under his shirt. Bruce glances down to his hand, uncertain if he's doing the right thing or not but has anything about this gone right at all? Maybe its time he took a wrong turn.

Two wrongs equates out to a right, as they say.

"...I want you to," he mutters quietly, an admission to himself as much as it is to Tony. He curls his fingers over Tony's chest, bunching the cloth in his hand. "But I don't want to hurt you. I don't think..." I don't think I could bear seeing you get hurt. Or worse.

Bruce looks back up, trying to catch Tony's gaze, hoping that his expression would be enough to say all the unspoken things he doesn't dare to say right now between them.

Tony isn't good with stability either, and he can see the resistance in Bruce's expression. The way that he pulls back, because Tony is pushing far too close. He knows he is, and he's not pulling back. They both have problems with permanence. He's come this far, though, and he's not ready to stop.

"You won't hurt me. I promise."

He even smiles, because he knows how stupid that sounds, but it's what he knows is true. Bruce and the Hulk won't hurt him. Sometimes, he thinks he really does understand the Hulk. It's a stretch and a lot of assumption on his part, but he believes it. Because if it weren't for the Hulk, he wouldn't even be there.

Tony leans in and closes the distance between them. Lips brush softly over Bruce's, inviting him to do more than touch, even though he's already done so much. Maybe it's Bruce's hand over his reactor that makes him push for more. He just suddenly finds that he can't hold himself back from pressing close and urging Bruce to return that kiss.

It wouldn't be the first time he dabbled in false hopes.

"We'll be okay," he murmurs. "It's you and me. We'll be okay."

Bruce doesn't really know what it is that tugs at his quickly crumbling resolve - maybe its the closeness they have now, or the heat of Tony's body near him, or that brilliant (so brillant, so wonderful - he thinks he can never be tired of it) smile that crosses his face when he says those words. It's simply so Tony that Bruce can't help but hold onto it in his head, wants to keep it wrapped and preserved in his mind for as long as he can.

His fist clenches up when Tony leans in, a handful of shirt curled up in his grip as a quiet little sound escapes from the back of his throat. Bruce can't deny the fact that a good part of him wants this, yearns for this. Not the sex, but just the simple pleasure of having somebody near him without the possibility of said somebody getting hurt. Here Tony was offering him just that and he wants, but still--

Moving his free hand, Bruce moves to make a grip on Tony's upper arm, holding him just enough to remind Bruce where he is, and what is happening - and what was about to happen.

"You and me," he mutters back in return, breathing the words right over Tony's lips. "You're not giving me much of a choice here, you know."

A quiet joke, a small prod, a vague deflection - but this is Bruce saying yes in the best way he can, at least for now. It's not a choice he should be making, but he wants to believe in Tony - believe that he can make it good for them both, because Bruce knows this is something he himself isn't able to manage.

He's playing dirty. He knows it, and he doesn't try to play it off as anything else. This isn't about the sex--although the sex is nice--because if it were about sex, Tony could always find a way to satisfy that particular urge. This is about Bruce, and about putting his life back together.

Putting them both back together if Tony is really honest. That's what he does. He puts things together so that they work. Many times even better than before. He places his hand over Bruce's fist, noting how his other arm is stuck right where it is, and he smiles at that. No, he's not going anywhere. Not tonight.

"You and me," he repeats. "It's the right choice. I haven't been wrong yet, have I?"

He doesn't really give Bruce the chance to answer. He steals another kiss, brushing over his lips with the tip of his tongue, tasting him and urging him to simply let go and enjoy the moment. Tony knows it's hard on him, but that's why he's there. He leans in close, doing his best to get his hands in good positions to touch him even though Bruce has his arm in a sure grip and he's still trying to coax a kiss from him.

Smut things for amygdalae

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