Prompt fill for nightwalker (onemuseleft on tumblr), who asked for another part to this story where Tony keeps his tank top on. And then sex happened. (Perhaps obviously.)

In some ways this was easier than the last one and in other ways it was harder. Is it bad? (Please let me know if it is.)

The unedited version is on AO3, though not too much was edited...

Chapter 3

Two days after that night, Steve could be found in the living room with the rest of the team sans Tony. They were watching Harry Potter on a TV that hadn't been modified by Tony. The other one had been relegated to wearing a sign that said "I sexually harass my betters" and put in timeout. Much to Steve's surprise, even Dummy had been rather offended by the TV's lack of manners. Tony's explanation for that was that despite popular opinion, Dummy did have some manners; he just didn't show them all that often.

"Farewell, my love," the TV warbled, "I never knew ye."

Clint tossed a cushion at it, not even bothering to look over.

"If I could count the ways I love youuuu—" Natasha's shoe hit it dead center in the screen. "Ow." It sounded completely miserable.

The only reason Steve didn't feel sorry for it was because it had eventually turned up in front of their bedroom and started blasting romantic music at full volume.

A bemused Bruce had chased it off, having been called by JARVIS since he was still up and not naked like Steve and Tony.

JARVIS had sat the TV through another sexual harassment seminar, but it didn't seem to have taken effect yet. Steve had heard Clint muttering mutinously about "conditioning the little bastard."

Now the TV was in timeout, having been put there by Bruce; the sign had been donated by a gleeful Clint. Steve had no doubt Tony would love it.

The rest of the team was under no illusions as to what was going on between Steve and Tony. The morning after Clint had given them both a wolf whistle. Then the TV had sauntered into the kitchen, commented on Tony's hickey, and scampered off before anyone could react. Steve had turned a scarlet color but kept his head high, simply quirking his eyebrows when Clint grinned knowingly at him.

Steve was just rather thankful that Thor was off with Jane; otherwise he was sure he would've been congratulated rather exuberantly on his sexual prowess. For some reason, Thor just knew these things.

"Oh, Harry Potter?" Tony walked in, water bottle in hand. That was all Steve registered before taking in the fact that he was wearing that tank top.

Tony stopped by the couch, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the TV. "I don't want to know."

"Best not," Natasha agreed, not taking her eyes off the film.

Mouth dry, Steve's eyes skimmed over Tony's arms, lingering over where the cloth dipped low to reveal his collarbones. It made no secret of hiding his muscular shoulders and the way his arm muscles worked as he unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and began drinking. The movement of his throat muscles was even more enchanting than the film playing.

When Tony's hand dropped to his hip, Steve's eyes unwittingly followed, and he swallowed upon seeing how the gray sweatpants hung low enough on one side to tease at a strip of skin and a sharp hipbone.

"I just remembered," Clint said suddenly, "I've got a lot of paperwork. So much work…" He slunk out before anyone could stop him.

"I have to go spy on someone," Natasha said, leaving so quickly it was almost unnoticeable.

"I'll…be in my lab." Bruce grabbed hold of the sulking TV and dragged it out with him.
Steve barely noticed, swallowing thickly at the smoldering look in Tony's eyes.

Tony tossed the now empty bottle onto an armchair, swinging a leg up to straddle Steve's lap, smirking down at him. His hands landed on Steve's shoulders.

Steve's hands automatically came up to brace Tony, settling at his hips. His thumbs brushed under the cloth of Tony's tank top, touching warm skin.

"Want something, babe?" Tony asked, ducking in to plant a chaste kiss on Steve's forehead.

Steve's throat worked as he fought to find his voice. When he finally managed to speak, the words came out hoarse. "You did that on purpose," he accused with no real heat.

Tony hummed, brushing his thumb under Steve's ear. "Did what?"

Steve leaned up to steal a kiss, not moving away as he whispered, "You know what."

Tony tilted his head, mouth brushing the corner of Steve's. Steve could feel the smug smirk. "Do I?"

"Yes." Steve rolled, stretching Tony out underneath him on the couch. "You do." He dipped down, catching Tony's mouth in a deep kiss, hand slipping under that damn tank top to trace over fluttering stomach muscles.

Tony arched his head back, gasping out, "I'll take your word for it." His breath hitched invitingly when Steve nipped lightly at his pulse point, lingering to press his tongue against the fluttering skin.

"You know what this does to me," Steve said, pulling the tank top partly up to reveal more skin.

"Ah." Tony's eyes were dark as he grinned up at Steve. He interlaced his fingers behind Steve's neck, pulling him down into another kiss, grinding up against him. His hard length was a burning brand against Steve's thigh, and he couldn't bite back a moan, shuddering as Tony deepened the kiss, tongues tangling.

"Honestly," Tony said breathlessly when they pulled apart, "I forgot."

Steve made a disbelieving noise, nosing under Tony's jaw. There was no way.

"I wear this all the time," Tony kept talking. "I'm not going to stop, and what you're doing right now is doing the opposite of persuading me otherwise – no, don't stop."

Steve resisted Tony's efforts to pull him down. He moved a hand under Tony's back, slipping it under the tank top and gently stroking warm skin. "Don't stop wearing it."

Tony arched an eyebrow, fingers tangling in the hairs at Steve's nape. "This is going to happen again."

"Probably."

"You don't mind?"

"Does it look like I mind?"

"Gotta admit, no." Tony grinned lazily, rocking lightly up against Steve; their breaths simultaneously hitched. "So, here?"

The noise from the film had faded into the background by now, but Steve still looked around self-consciously. Sex in a semi-public place wasn't something he was big into.

"Relax," Tony said, grin softening into a warm smile. "I don't think anyone's gonna come in here for the next couple hours."

"God, I hope not." The words fell out of Steve's mouth before he could stop them. "That would be awful."

It seemed to take Tony a moment to understand what exactly Steve was referring to. His eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store. "Bad choice of words, I admit, but oh, Captain."

"Steve." Steve cut off further conversation by licking into Tony's open mouth.

"Steve," Tony agreed breathlessly when Steve broke apart to move down and nose along Tony's neck and down to his collarbones. He moved restlessly under Steve, broken gasps and hitched moans escaping him as Steve teased him.

"Clothes?" Tony asked, fingers tangling in Steve's hair.

Steve briefly stopped his exploration of Tony's chest, considering. "Shirt stays," he said finally, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Tony's sweatpants and pulling them down.

"Oh yes," Tony said, reaching to pop the buttons of Steve's jeans. "Why are you wearing jeans?"

Steve didn't bother to grace him with an answer, too busy marveling at the fact that Tony had gone commando.

"Next time I'll wear my thong," Tony said.

Steve's brain stuttered and blanked. "Thong?"

"You'll like it," Tony promised. "It's red." He took advantage of Steve's addled state of mind to flip them around, setting to work on fully ridding Steve of his pants and briefs.

In the meantime, Steve's brain conjured up images of Tony in nothing but a lacy red thong. He was even harder than before, jolting in surprise when Tony wrapped a hand around his length and gently started stroking.

His dark eyes studied Steve intently. "You're gorgeous."

Steve felt himself flush, which was ridiculous since he was already red with exertion and pleasure.

His hips rocked upwards.

"Beautiful," Tony said softly, leaning down to press a sloppy open-mouthed kiss against Steve's lips.

"Tony," Steve protested lightly after they broke apart.

"It's true," Tony murmured, kissing the sensitive spot directly behind Steve's ear and getting a delighted shiver.

Steve moaned, hands slipping up underneath Tony's tank top to pull him close so he could hide his face in Tony's shoulder. Tony ground down, hands tangling in Steve's hair as he nipped Steve's ear.

"T-Tony…" Steve buried his face in Tony's neck, mouth searching out a patch of skin that he accidentally bit into the next time Tony ground against him.

"Oh, kinky," Tony said breathlessly, groaning softly as Steve apologetically kissed the spot.

"Sorry," Steve gasped, drawing back only to receive a warm kiss.

"Don't be." Tony flashed him a bone-melting grin. "All consensual here, babe."

"Thank God – oh." Steve arched up into Tony, jolting as clever fingers pinched a nipple.

"Sensitive?" Tony smirked, scooting down slightly. Then without warning, he dipped his head and took Steve's nipple into his mouth, sucking.

Steve cried out, hands digging into the skin of Tony's back. He buried his face into Tony's dark hair, incomprehensible words escaping him as Tony continued his torture.

"Sensitive," Tony repeated in a muffled murmur, almost as if he was noting down a set of calculations. The vibrations of Tony's voice and the rough scratch of stubble and hair against Steve's sensitive nipple almost tipped him over the edge right then and there.

"Tony." Steve pulled at him, not wanting to come until Tony was right there with him.

Tony let the other pull him into a messy kiss. "Someday"—he bit at Steve's jaw—"I'm going"—he pressed a kiss to the side of Steve's neck—"to see"—he created a dark bruise directly at the sensitive spot under Steve's ear—"how far you can go." He punctuated this statement with another deep kiss, this time sucking hard on Steve's tongue, one hand twisting into Steve's hair as he coaxed them both into an uneven rhythm.

One of Steve's hands fisted the cloth of Tony's tank top; the other clutched at Tony's ass, hitching him even closer.

He was so close; he could feel pleasure coiling in the base of his stomach. His eyes had closed without his knowledge sometime in the last minute, and he forced them open, not wanting to miss a thing.

Tony's face was deeply flushed; his eyes blown black and lips red and swollen from their kisses. A lock of his hair hung directly over his forehead. He was muttering half-formed words that sounded like mathematical calculations.

"Ah, fuck, Steve—" Tony pressed his forehead against Steve's, eyes squeezed shut and his entire body tensing as warm liquid splashed between them.

But it was Tony pulling at Steve's hair and nipping at his new hickey that pushed him over the edge. Sharp pleasure coursed through every nerve of his body, and Steve thought he might've cried out.

When he slowly came back to himself, Steve found Tony stretched out on top of him, lazily tracing what felt like math equations onto his stomach. Steve dazedly ran a hand up and down Tony, eventually drawing to a stop directly in the small of Tony's back.

"You're really hot when you lose control like that," Tony said, craning his head back to look Steve in the eyes.

"Mm." Steve still didn't feel quite up to coherent words.

Tony grinned lightly, reaching down for a moment to retrieve his sweatpants and wipe them off. "Next time we're doing it again in a bed," he said. "Awesome as this couch is, it's too small for me to do half the stuff I want to."

"Okay," Steve managed.

Tony fell back into silence for a few more minutes, letting Steve gather his scattered thoughts.

Once Steve felt notably more coherent, although still too disinclined to move from his current spot from under Tony, Tony spoke again. "I'm never going to watch Harry Potter the same way again."

Steve hadn't even remembered that the movie had been playing. He glanced over at the TV, only to see a black screen with simple words written on it: AGENT BARTON POLITELY REQUESTS THE COUCH BE DRY-CLEANED.

"Oh my God." Mortified, Steve pulled a cushion over his face.

"'Politely'?" Tony sounded incredulous. "Jeez, JARVIS. I'll show him polite."

Thankfully JARVIS didn't respond. Steve wasn't sure what he would've done to that.

"I think I'll put this couch down in the shop," Tony said thoughtfully, tracing circles on Steve's stomach. "Put in an order for a new one, JARVIS."

"Bed next time," Steve said into the cushion.

"Sure thing, babe," Tony said in a way that suggested he was just agreeing for the sake of it. Then again, he probably hadn't understood Steve in the first place.

Reluctantly putting the cushion back, Steve looked down at Tony. "Should we move?"

"We've still got a good few hours," Tony said, grinning far too maniacally for a man who had just experienced some very good sex. "What do you say to another round?"

It took Steve several minutes to make up his mind. The couch was already soiled, wasn't it? And besides, he really didn't feel like moving…

Rather than respond verbally, Steve pulled Tony up into a kiss, who gave a surprised but pleased sound before responding very enthusiastically.

Clint could go deal with his nonexistent paperwork.

I seem to have a bit of a hair kink when it comes to Steve.

...How was it?