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Almost three years of sharing a bed, sharing a life, and, in the end — in the end, none of it meant anything.
It would hurt a lot less, Steve thinks, if Tony was torn up over having to give him up, if he showed even just a morsel of longing or regret, but it’s obvious to him now that he was nothing but convenient for Tony, a body to warm his bed after a long day of work.
Tony hadn’t put up a fight when the council suggested he marry, hadn’t so much as said a single word, while Steve stood beside him in mute horror, his knees buckling under the weight of his whole world shattering. Even then, in the face of Tony’s indifference, he’d harbored foolish hopes that this was nothing but a temporary obstacle for them, but he should have known better than to believe he could keep this.
That this is something he is even allowed to have.
Tonight, at the banquet, he saw his worst fears come true: Tony courting the Princess, warm affection plain on his face. It was hardly the first time he’d seen Tony entertain a guest, but it was the first time he had looked truly content in someone else’s arms. The first time he hadn’t searched out Steve’s gaze across the room, a shared moment of stillness in their otherwise so busy world.
The memory hits him like a punch to the gut. He shakes himself out of it and tightens his grip on his shield. He cannot think of that now. Tony relies on him to get him to safety. That’s all that matters. That’s all he is, he reminds himself, a loyal knight protecting his king. He has no one but himself to blame for losing sight of his position, for hoping for something more.
It’s a small mercy that they found themselves lost here, in the woods he used to call home. Perhaps it is foolish, but he trusts this place. Trusts that the cave is still as he remembers it, all those years later. He will get Tony home, and then — and then, he will continue doing his duty, as he should have all along, and Tony will do his, whatever that entails. It is of no concern to Steve any longer.
“Steve,” Tony’s voice cuts through the heavy silence.
Against his will, Steve’s traitorous heart skips a beat. He hastens his pace, eyeing dark clouds forming ominously on the horizon, chasing away what little light they have left.
“I know you would rather face a mountain lion and a bear than talk to me at this moment,” Tony continues, ”But I must insist that it is hardly my fault somebody wishes me dead. So I struggle to follow all this anger directed at me.” A pause. “Well, I suppose it is somewhat my fault. Aside from obvious political reasons, I do have the tendency to rub most people the wrong way—”
“I’m not angry,” Steve grits out between clenched teeth.
Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it. Devastated might be closer to the mark. Heartbroken, if he’s perfectly honest. As if this thing between them could’ve ever ended any other way.
But there is truth to Tony’s words. There is no time to lose himself in anger. If he hadn’t been so distracted, clinging to every single one of Tony’s gestures and smiles like a lovelorn fool, they wouldn’t be where they are now. Trudging through knee-length snow, unknown enemies at their heels, out for Tony’s blood.
Another surge of helpless anger washes through him at the memory of how close he came to losing Tony. It’s unlike him to lose focus of his duties, to let his emotions overrule his better instincts. Tony has made him careless, in more ways than one. He hacks away at a low hanging twig with far more force than necessary.
Tony has fallen quiet behind him.
For a while, nothing can be heard aside from the crunch of their feet on the pristine white snow. Steve can’t remember the last time silence between them had ever been so uneasy, but for the life of him, he can’t think of anything to say. His mind keeps replaying the image of Tony’s hand on the Princess’s waist in one endless, tiring, devastating loop. His eyes burn from more than just the cold.
“I wish you would speak to me, Steve,” Tony says again, voice quiet now. ”I hate it when you’re cross with me.”
Damn him. Steve heaves a heavy sigh and turns on his heel, forcing them to halt abruptly in the middle of a clearing. Tony is staring at him, eyes dark and intent. Against his better judgment, Steve feels himself soften, the way he always does when Tony gives him his undivided attention. His hands itch with the urge to tug Tony close and wrap him under his coat, to feel the heat of his body against his own.
Foolish.
Not keeping his hands to himself has gotten them into this mess in the first place.
It’s his fault, as much as Tony’s, that they blurred the lines between each other. He tightens his fingers around the shield’s handle, leather gloves creaking. Some part of him is almost relieved, to have it end finally. It was bound to, sooner or later. He only wishes it would’ve been sooner. They would have saved themselves a world of pain.
“My liege,” he begins and can’t even enjoy the flinch that flashes across Tony’s face. There are few things Tony hates more than Steve calling him by his title. “We are stranded in the middle of the woods, a snowstorm is brewing on the horizon, half the kingdom is after you for…well, we don’t even know why, do we, but they are coming. I do not wish to be rude, but I am trying to get us to safety, so if you could…” He trails off, giving Tony a meaningful look. “...hold yourself back from distracting me, that would be most appreciated.”
Tony’s jaw twitches. “Understood,” he says finally, in a tone that implies he doesn’t.
“Thank you,” Steve replies, turning to keep walking.
Tony’s hand snatches out to grab his wrist. “But first, admit that you are angry at me.”
Steve tugs his wrist back. “I have no reason to be angry—”
“You are a horrid liar,” Tony cuts in, a glint in his eye. “Always have been. I don’t know why you even try with me.”
Steve stares at him in disbelief, barely suppressing a scoff. There’s a lot he could say but he bites back the reckless words threatening to bubble out of him. For both their sake. “Any opinions or feelings I might have on this situation don’t matter. I am here to see you to safety.”
Tony looks like he wants to argue with Steve further, but his sense of self perseveration must win out over his incessant urge to nag Steve, because he deflates. “So, where to?” he asks finally. “I am hopeless with directions but even I know we are heading away from the castle. Please tell me you have a snug little cabin hidden away somewhere.” A pause. “Your childhood home, perhaps?”
Steve carefully doesn’t let the surprise show on his face. It is true that the little cottage he called home for decades is near, barely a half day’s walk, but he’s not risking the long trek there only to find it demolished or, worse, overtaken by someone else. He hasn’t returned since he came to Tony’s court after his mother’s death, almost twenty years ago now.
He’s surprised that Tony brought it up. Some things they do not talk about.
“There is a cave system running underneath these woods which lead back toward the castle,” he replies. “We’re not far off from an entrance, three miles, give or take. If we can make it there before night falls, we should be safe for a while. I know a place where we can make a fire and rest. With the way this storm’s going, our tracks should be covered up fast, and I didn’t see anyone following us. I trust that Commander Rhodes has reconvened with Commander Romanoff back at the castle and will have the situation under control by the time we return.”
And then Tony can resume his quest of finding a bride and Steve — Steve can continue protecting Tony from afar, as he’s always done. As is his duty. He has no one but himself to blame for losing sight of it. Tony’s staring at him, unnervingly intent, but Steve stays resolute. He has nothing further to say on the matter.
“Very well,” Tony says at length, his expressive eyes shuttering. “I trust your instincts. Lead the way.”
Steve nods, numb. It’s what he wanted, a clear line demarcating their roles, but the warmth fading from Tony’s eyes still hits him like a swift kick to the sternum.
It’s unbearable, the thought of meaning nothing to Tony.
“There’s also a hot spring. We could warm up and return to the castle once night has settled,” he finds himself saying, words spilling out against his will. He has no idea why he brought it up. He’d planned to circumvent the springs, head straight for the castle, but—
But he finds himself wanting to prolong the return to the castle. Selfish. Foolish, but Steve can’t claim to have ever been rational around Tony.
“Whatever you think is best,” Tony replies, expressionless. ”I follow your lead.”
Steve almost laughs. Whatever he thinks is best. He can work with that. If only he’d listened to whatever he thought was best earlier and never let himself get tangled up with Tony in the first place. He turns on his heel without another word and marches on.
Tony doesn’t speak again and he tells himself he’s grateful for it.
By the time they reach the caves, dusk is beginning to creep over the woods, throwing long shadows around them, and the snow storm has taken firm hold of the woods. Steve’s eyes burn against the cold. He isn’t in the habit of letting his guard down, but the sight of the cave has cautious hope flaring up in his chest.
Any shelter is a blessing out here, but this place used to keep him safe, a long time ago. There’s enough dried moss in the caves to make a fire, enough twisted pathways only Steve knows how to navigate, if anyone were to follow them inside.
And the hot springs, a little slice of heaven in these unforgiving woods.
He trails one hand over the rough stone along the low opening, cataloging their surroundings. No one has been here in a long time. No one human, anyhow. The paw prints scattered in front of the cave aren’t large enough to be a threat. He swings his shield over his shoulder and bends down to clear overgrown weeds and roots from the entrance.
The earthy, moldy smell that hits him when he’s cleared enough of an opening to squeeze through startles him for a second, long gone memories tickling the back of his mind. Tony’s staring at him when he stands back up, eyes sharp and curious.
Steve clears his throat. “There’s a little cave, a quarter mile from here, where we can rest for a while. Warm up before we go on. I’ll scope it out. If I don’t return in a minute, run.”
“Where to?” Tony drawls, arching one unimpressed eyebrow. ”Half the kingdom wants me dead, as you like to keep pointing out, and there’s this.” He points out at the encroaching darkness behind him. “I think I’d rather just die, thank you.”
“Do not joke about that,” Steve says, pinching the bridge of his nose, even as he feels his lips twitching against his will. God, this man. “I’ll be back in a minute. Stay where you are.”
A quick sweep of the place yields that it’s deserted, and has been for a long time. The deep earthiness permeating the space has the hair on his arms stand up. The last time he walked these pathways, he was still a child. He tugs off a glove and trails a hand over the soft, spongy moss covering the walls. Something sharp in his gut untwists.
These woods are still his home, even as he’s long abandoned them for the comforts of Tony’s castle. They will offer him refuge. It’s a humbling realization.
He stands under the little opening that opens to the sky in the little cave for another moment, watching the darkening sky through the snow flurry. Many, many winters ago, he used to lay right here with Bucky, staring at the same sky, imagining what the future would hold for them.
Back then, he hadn’t had a hope of even leaving his backwater village, let alone coming anywhere near Tony’s court. Now he’s in Tony’s bed, not that it’s done him any good. He snorts to himself, amused despite himself at his circumstances, and the sound echoes in the cavernous space.
He’s reluctant to leave a fire unguarded while he goes back to fetch Tony, so he fashions some sort of torch made out of scraps of his coat and some moss instead. It won’t last long, but it’s enough for them to reach the cave, enough to get a proper fire going.
Tony’s crouched by the cave’s entrance, staring out into the dark nothingness, right where Steve left him. The thoughtful, almost melancholy, look on his face dissolves into a relieved smile when he sees Steve, eyes crinkling at the sides.
Like a moth to a flame, Steve finds himself leaning into it, even as he knows it’s another mistake. He sets his jaw and inclines his head toward where he came from, urging Tony to follow.
‹›«»‹›
“Romantic,” Tony remarks when they reach the cave, eyeing the dancing snow through the hole in the ceiling. His gaze slides toward Steve after a second, mouth curling into a smirk. “Why do I sense that I’m not the first man you’ve brought here?”
Steve gives Tony a quelling look, turning away to start the fire. He’s not wrong. There was Bucky, after all, although nothing as salacious as Tony is imagining ever happened between them. One clumsy kiss, neither of them as drunk as they pretended to be on some stolen moonshine. Nothing more than a passing fancy that they laugh about now.
Sometimes he wonders whether Tony has clairvoyant powers. Or maybe Steve’s just that transparent to him. He’s not sure how to feel about that.
He kneels down, making a haphazard pile out of moss. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can sense that Tony’s attention remains on him. It’s making him itch.
“I can’t imagine you here,” Tony says, unexpectedly. “These woods, this...” He circles his finger around the place. “This everything. Barnes maybe, but certainly not you. You’re such a city boy. You like it comfortable.”
“There are cities in this part of the land, I’ll have you know. It’s not just fields of wheat and chickens.”
Tony doesn’t reply but Steve feels the doubtful expression he casts his way anyhow. He rolls his eyes, suppressing a grin. He’ll miss this, too, once it’s over — how seamlessly he and Tony find each other again after a fight, how easily Tony can get him to laugh, when every part of Steve rebels against the urge. The first years of their acquaintance were spent constantly at odds, constantly misunderstanding each other, but these days, nothing is as easy as being around Tony.
Sudden, ice-cold sadness rushes him. It’s fine. He will be fine. He has lived a whole life before Tony, he reminds himself. He can do it again, if he must.
When he’s confident that the fire will survive, that whatever he feels won’t show on his face, he stands up, dusting off his pants. “Come warm up,” he says, shrugging off his coat and laying it around the fire. “We have a long way to go.”
Tony follows suit, settling on the edge of Steve’s coat. He tugs off his gloves after a while, flexing his hands over the fire. Even in the low light of the fire, Steve can see the barely suppressed shiver in his shoulders, the way he holds his right arm tight to his chest. Steve knows the scars trailing up his right hand to his shoulder ache when it gets cold.
He forces his gaze away when the longing to tug Tony close almost bowls him over with its intensity. It has been so long since he’s last held Tony in his arms. They had nothing but a brief moment to themselves in Tony’s study a fortnight ago, after he’d returned from another long mission, half delirious from sleep deprivation and longing, before the council called for a meeting and crushed all his hopes to dust.
Since then, aside from official duties, he’d made himself scarce in Tony’s presence. Easy enough when you have a million things to do, a million things to think of before you can even think of taking anything for yourself. Tony hadn’t reached for him either and Steve had been both grateful and devastated by it.
Now, in the quiet isolation of the cave, with Tony within arm’s reach, it’s easy to forget all the reasons he tells himself to stay away.
Hell, this might be the last time he gets to hold Tony. What’s one more transgression after years of blurring every possible boundary between each other?
They have already ruined each other beyond repair.
Before he can talk himself out of it, he nudges Tony’s foot with his boot. It takes a moment but he gets Tony to look up. Steve wordlessly turns over his hands on his thighs, palms up. An invitation. A plea. Tony’s eyes flick to his, uncertainty writ clear across them. Steve feels his throat close up, irrationally hurt. He should’ve known better than to expect Tony to reach for him when he’s the one pulling away—
Tony lets out a bone deep, weary sigh and crawls over, settling in against Steve’s chest. He fits right in. He always does. Steve bites his tongue against the thank yous wanting to burst out of him, heart hammering wildly, and instead reaches for Tony’s arm, digging his thumb in, hesitantly at first and then firmly, when Tony lets out a sigh of relief, head lolling to the side.
He can take care of Tony, if nothing else. He has always been good at that. Even if he breaks his own damn heart while he’s at it. He allows himself one last selfish, torturous moment, drawing out the tension in Tony’s body with practiced ease, until he feels Tony’s body go slack, then gently untangles them.
“Let’s go. We’ve already dawdled too long.”
‹›«»‹›
It’s been twenty years since he’s walked these narrow pathways, but Steve’s feet still remember where to take him. He senses the hot springs long before he sees them, an earthy, muggy dampness settling deep in his lungs, in his bones. It’s a relief to hear only the gentle lapping of water when they draw nearer, although he hadn’t expected anyone else to be out here, this deep into another harsh winter.
No one is out during a snowstorm if they don’t have to be. No one is coming to these caves, this far into the woods. Steve’s not sure how he ever ended up here himself. Stumbling across this little slice of paradise still feels unreal, all these years later.
“How did you find this place?” Tony murmurs, as if reading his mind. When Steve turns, the otherworldly turquoise glow of the water is reflecting on the beautiful planes of his face.
“I was out hunting one time,” Steve replies, clearing his throat. “Ended up here.” A memory of long-past pain makes his shoulders tense as he suppresses a shiver. His ma hated it when he went too far away from home, but the hot water of the springs had been the only working balm for Steve’s aching bones. They were hard, difficult times.
But it wasn’t all bad. It turned him into the man he is now.
He turns to deposit his torch in a little stone outcropping, exactly where he put it years ago too. “Come on. We don’t have all day.” There’s nothing to be done about the dampness of their clothes, when they put them back on, but if they are lucky and don’t encounter anyone, they will be home before dawn breaks. The storm will reach its zenith soon, and then settle. Steve knows the winters here.
They hiss in unison when they step into the shallow pool, frozen limbs tingling in the warm water. When Steve was little, he could submerge himself fully under the water on his back. Now he sits cross-legged opposite to Tony, upper body exposed to the cool air of the little chamber. His skin prickles, as much from being exposed as by being here at all, with Tony by his side.
He silently watches Tony draw his hand through the glowing water, the ripples winding around his strong, muscular arms. So much of their lives has been lived in between battles. It used to be enough, a few stolen, furtive moments late at night, a shared look, but he’s old now and tired and he can admit, now that it’s over, that he dreamed about having Tony to himself like this, too.
Just him and Tony in a little pocket of time and space, far away from privy eyes.
Tony’s hands curl into loose fists underwater. Without even looking up, Steve can feel his gaze settle on him. He’s unsurprised to see steely determination across Tony’s features, when he finally drags his eyes up. Tony is never content with being silenced. Steve can run all he wants. In the end, Tony will always—
“I cannot wrap my head around the fact that you think I would marry someone that isn’t you.”
Steve’s heart jumps to his throat. It takes him a while to gather his wits. “It’s a perfectly reasonable assumption, you have your duty—”
“Enough!” Tony cuts in, his voice loud and echoing in the cavernous room. “You torture me all day with your silence and, and when I try to speak, you shut me out. I will speak now, and you will listen.”
Steve shuts up. The age-old urge to cross his arms over his arms and duck his face overwhelms him. He grips his knees painfully with both hands instead, and forces his eyes to hold Tony’s gaze.
Tony draws a trembling hand over his face. “I don’t know what hurts the most. That you think of me the kind of man to do such a thing, or that you’re so eager to, to let me go, that you would just accept it—”
Steve scoffs, awakened out of his stupor. “Let you go? Tony, look at us! Look at you and then look at me. In what world is this…” He trails off, grappling for words. Allowed? A good idea? He gesticulates wildly between them, at a loss for words. “I do not regret the time we spent together, but you will marry, as is your duty, and I will…I will do mine.”
I will live with it, he thinks but doesn’t say.
“I do not care about duty when it comes to you!” Tony replies, eyes wild. “I do not care what my council thinks. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
Steve scoffs again. This time, it’s bitter. “Of course you don’t! Because you can do whatever you like, whenever you like, with whoever you like. But I don’t have that luxury.”
Tony rears back, an expression on his face like he’s been slapped. Perhaps Steve’s words were unkind, but that doesn’t make them any less true. He refuses to apologize. Tony is Tony and Steve is — a lot of things, but he is not Tony’s equal. He will never be Tony’s equal. He has always known this.
He wishes saying it out loud would make him feel vindicated, in some small way, but mostly he feels tired.
“For what it’s worth,” he amends, “I don’t think you wish to marry, but I know you will do what is best for your people.” Tony is a good king. He will do what he thinks is right for his country. And so will Steve. There’s no point in further discussing this. There’s no other outcome to this story. “Why are we arguing about this?” he continues, looking down at where his hands are gripping his knees, skin white under his knuckles. “There is no way—”
“How can you think that I would want anyone but you?” Steve rears back, struck speechless at the anguish in Tony’s voice. “Do you have any idea what I feel for you? Do you have any idea what you do to me? When you are away, I lay awake at night until you return to me. I think of no one but you, I haven’t since you’ve come into my life. I lose my train of thought the second I feel your gaze on me—”
“Tony—”
“—but you’re so caught up in thinking the worst of me, still, after all this time, that you refuse to see—”
Steve reaches for Tony, wrapping both arms tight around his shoulders, unable to be apart any longer.
“Why are you so hellbent on hurting me?” Tony asks, voice anguished, even as he reciprocates Steve’s fierce embrace, hands digging in Steve’s nape almost viciously. “Speak for once, you infuriating man or let me go.”
“I am sorry,” Steve replies, heart hammering wildly in his chest. How could he have gotten it so wrong? He pulls back but leaves his hands on Tony’s jaw. “Do you mean it?” he asks, feeling small and emboldened at once, caught in Tony’s gaze.
“Steve,” Tony says, “I would give up my crown, if it meant that I would get to keep you.”
Steve’s breath leaves him in a rush. “I would never ask you to do such a thing.” It is the wrong thing to say, he knows, as soon as the words leave him, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind. It terrifies him, sometimes, Tony’s devotion.
“I know,” Tony replies, eyes shuttering and hands drawing away. “You never ask. You only presume.”
He’s drawing away from Steve, and that — that won’t do. Steve reaches for his hands, holding them between his cold ones. “Please, I…” He trails off. There’s no easy way to say I don’t know what I am to you without sounding accusatory, without sounding pathetic. Some days, at court, he feels like an imposter still. Even as he commands armies of thousands of soldiers, even as he sits at Tony’s right every night.
He owes it to Tony to explain himself, even as the thought of baring himself terrifies him.
“I love you,” he says finally because that is, somehow, the easiest thing to say. It’s a relief to have the words out after burying them for so long.
Tony stills in his embrace, his face moving through a complicated series of motions.
“I love you, so dearly,” Steve repeats, heart in his throat. “If only you knew. I dream of holding your hand in front of everyone, hell, even the thought of just brushing a curl of hair away from your face, consequences be damned, fills me with so much longing, I cannot begin to explain it, but...” He shakes his head. “That is not the world we live in. I need to start accepting it. And so do you.”
His heart breaks a little when Tony doesn’t reply immediately. He knows it too. They were blessed with many things in life, but loving one another openly—
They should know better than to have hoped for that.
“You are right,” Tony says at length. “This isn’t the world we live in. And I have railed against it every day since the day we first kissed. That I cannot love you fully, openly, the way you deserve to. But I made peace with it. I would have been content loving you in secret for all my life, if this is all I could have. But now that my council wants me married off…No. I refuse. I’ll be damned if I marry someone that isn’t you. So the question is, do we do what is expected of us, making ourselves miserable and lonely in the process, or do we do what is right by us and…” He trails off, shrugging. “Run away?”
Against his will, Steve barks out a laugh.
“Well, maybe nothing quite as adventurous,” Tony wrinkles his nose. “I am quite content in my castle, I have to admit. But we could…marry, still. Just for us. Rhodey knows, and Pepper. Sam. That’s half my council, who never agreed to this harebrained scheme of me being married off, to begin with. The people we love know. That’s all that matters to me.”
“Tony,” Steve says, in disbelief. He’s no romantic, but having visible proof of their commitment, even just for themselves. A ring to wear around a chain on his neck, matching Tony’s. A promise stronger than any of Steve’s doubts, even though they may linger. The idea makes joy bloom inside his chest, bright and warm.
“If you wanted,” Tony says, visibly swallowing. “I would, of course, never presume to know your feelings for me—”
“Tony,” Steve says again, overcome.
He tugs Tony’s hands to his mouth, leaving a desperate kiss on one palm, then the other. Something in his gut unclenches, when he sees Tony’s eyes thaw, a tentative twitch on his face that might be the beginnings of a smile. “Don’t you know I’ve dreamed of having someone like you all my life? And then I met you, and even when we fought like cats and dogs, even when my heart was broken — even then, I knew it was you. It was always you. I would be honored to be your husband, and to call you mine, even if it is just us that will know it.” A beat. “Perhaps especially then. What we have, it’s just ours.”
Tony throws himself into Steve’s arms. Steve buries his nose in the space between Tony’s shoulder and throat and takes deep lungfuls of salt and warmth and citrus and firewood, heart bursting with so much joy and disbelief he can hardly breathe.
Tony’s eyes are shiny, when his face reappears. Steve wipes his thumbs gently under his red-rimmed eyes. “Ever since that damned council meeting, I’ve been trying to reason with myself that I could let you go, that I would survive it, but…I cannot. The thought of having to watch you with someone else, even if it’s just a marriage of convenience — I would exile myself before I could face such a situation.” He hangs his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Oh, my darling.”
Tony’s hands card through his hair, gently pushing his head up. Then his nose nudges Steve’s, his mouth on Steve’s. It’s just a little, close-mouthed kiss, but it’s enough to settle Steve. The maelstrom in him quiets. He takes in a few tremulous breaths, forehead against Tony’s. When he opens his eyes again, Tony is smiling at him with such open fondness, Steve feels like a fool all over again. This time, for missing it.
By mutual silent agreement, their mouths meet again, once, twice. Then Tony’s hands worm themselves into Steve’s hair and Steve tugs him close, and the kisses turn from comforting to something else entirely in an instant, sudden aching need driving them closer and closer and closer to each other.
They’re breathing hard when they separate. “We should head back …” Steve begins, clearing his suddenly dry throat.
“Yes, we should.”
Tony swallows, brushing a hand through his hair. Steve’s eyes fall to the bob of his throat, the perfect bow of his upper lip. There’s no time for it. There never is, but especially now when they don’t know what awaits them at the castle. But they belong to each other now, and Steve can see the desire in Tony’s eyes so clearly. He couldn’t resist it if he tried.
The skin of his neck pebbles when Tony digs his fingers in, possessive. A second later, their mouths crash together. He drags his hands down Tony’s body to grab his ass and hitches him closer, desperate, as their mouths slide together wetly, messily. “Make me yours, Steve,” Tony gasps out in between kisses, hands possessive on Steve’s jaw. “And show me you’re mine too.”
“Whatever you want,” Steve replies, the words coming out like an oath. He tugs Tony even closer to him until he is straddled on his waist, and reaches down between their bodies with shaking hands, teasing over the sensitive skin of Tony’s stomach, the curls at the base of his dick. They groan in unison when he finally gets a hand around both their cocks, holding them together in a loose grip.
After a moment, one of Tony’s hands comes down to join Steve’s, wrapping around his in a tight embrace. “You want to know what I want?” Tony asks teasingly. Steve’s eyes flick up to his. “I want you to fuck me. Can you do that for me, my love?”
“I can’t—” Steve gasps out, even as the thought has his cock throbbing. He bites his lower lip to keep in a groan.
“You said whatever I want,” Tony drawls, grip tightening. “Not a man of your word, after all, are you, Knight Rogers? How very disappointing.”
Steve shakes his head. “I won’t risk hurting you. You know that.”
Tony tsks. “And I always get what I want. You know that. Do as your king says,” he demands, and damn it, if this doesn’t light up something deep in Steve’s gut.
Tony smirks like he knows exactly the reaction his words have caused. Steve won’t, no matter how hard Tony tries, because they have no supplies and Tony hadn’t taken him in a while, but he lets his hand wander down and in between Tony’s cheeks, teasing around soft hair around his hole, as he watches the anticipation on Tony’s face.
Tony is tight but he opens up beautifully when Steve kisses that one spot high on his throat that always makes him full on body shiver. He slips a finger in up to the knuckle, then two, because he knows what Tony can take, knows that when he asks for it, he wants it hard, and Steve better oblige.
When he finds that one special spot inside, Tony lets out a loud, unashamed moan, fingers digging into Steve’s nape. This is his favorite thing, how much Tony wants it. He could come with his cock entirely untouched, coaxing Tony open, watching him unravel in his arms. He bites down on the vulnerable skin of Tony’s throat, just a little, because he can’t help himself, but he’s careful. He’s always careful. Nobody will know. This is just for himself.
This is only ever his.
Another finger, and Tony’s back bows into him, face going slack. Steve’s cock throbs, sweat forming on his hairline, as his eyes flick over Tony’s face greedily, desperately. No longer the composed, confident king but wholly, completely Steve’s, riding Steve’s fingers like his life depends on it, pressing his needy cock against Steve’s. Fuck.
“Look at you. You were made for me, weren’t you,” he grinds out, the words coming from somewhere deep within, and Tony seizes up and comes against him with a shudder.
Steve curses, a full body shudder flashing through him. He won’t need much. He thrusts in between Tony’s thighs, once, twice, rubbing up against his sensitive hole. His body longs to thrust in, to claim Tony, but he holds himself back. Then Tony grabs him by the crown of his hair, hard and demanding, and murmurs, “Let go, my love. Show me how much you want me,” and it’s over. He’s done for. He comes against Tony, with a loud groan.
When he comes back to the present, Tony’s hands are carding through his hair. He kisses Tony’s palm, then the side of his mouth. Then he untangles them, even though he would like nothing more than to stay in this moment.
The cool air hitting his wet skin when he heaves himself out of the pool makes him wince. He hops over to their clothing, sliding his feet into his boots. So maybe this wasn’t the smartest idea they had, but Steve can’t say he regrets bringing Tony here, not when it allowed them to be honest with each other.
“Any chance you’ve stashed a blanket somewhere?” Tony says, stretching his hands over his head and watching Steve pat himself down with his coat with languid eyes.
”Naturally,” Steve says, reaching for his pants. “I also have a carriage waiting in the next cave over. Our coachman has been courteous enough to wait for us to finish. He’s a very understanding fellow.”
Tony splashes water in his direction in reply. Steve smirks, tugging on his linen chemise. He dresses himself quickly, then comes over to pat Tony down, even though Tony looks entirely unbothered by the cold.
They pause once they’re dressed, facing each other. The seriousness in Tony’s gaze makes him pause. “I worry about the people back at the castle,” Tony says finally. “To think that anybody might’ve gotten hurt because of me. It was careless of me to think that we are safe now that we sat together at the same table with the Chitauri.”
Steve reaches out to grip his shoulder. “They broke the peace treaty and they will be dealt with. We couldn’t have known. But we have good people back at the castle who know exactly what to do. I have full trust in them. Nobody gets past the Avengers.” He can’t promise it really but he says it anyway: “Nobody will dare hurt us ever again.”
Tony’s mouth twitches into a small smile.
“What?” Steve asks.
“You said us.”
Steve ducks his head. “I am your loyal—”
In a moment, Tony is before him. “Very careful what you say next. What are you?”
Steve swallows heavily, heart pounding under Tony’s intense gaze. “I am your … husband.” He wonders at how easy it is to say it out loud. To believe it. He feels giddy with happiness in a way he hasn’t felt since he was a child.
Tony’s answering smile is dazzling. Steve sees the joy he feels reflected in his gaze. “And don’t you forget it,” he replies.
“I won’t.”
They kiss again, a soft little kiss, and it feels like sealing a promise. It won’t be easy, what follows, no matter how much they want it to, but the panic he expects to rush him doesn’t materialize. He is no longer afraid of whatever comes, not with Tony by his side, with Tony’s hand warm and secure in his.
He grabs the flickering torch from the wall and, with one last lingering look at the magical green-blue behind them, they make their way back home.