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Drabble set number 5:

there was a bingo card, but I forgot to save it, so i just got rid of the prompt words entirely.

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there is now a link 🔗

Another drabble bingo incoming. This one is a bow tie that is soooooort of meant to be an interconnected set. Very loosely interconnected, but still.

AO3 link to follow once it actually goes up.

Think I'll generate a new set of cards after this. There's too many repeats in this one.

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Another drabble bingo incoming. This one is a bow tie that is soooooort of meant to be an interconnected set. Very loosely interconnected, but still.

AO3 link to follow once it actually goes up.

Think I'll generate a new set of cards after this. There's too many repeats in this one.

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Made myself some bingo cards for writing prompts. Posting them here as they're completed. Actual fills are on AO3. Card is a link.

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It’s smut-o’clock!

Happy July, smutwriters. Prompts for the July 2018 erotic prompt challenge can be answered from today to July 31. 

The challenge seems to have exploded somewhat so I created a collection on Ao3 to help increase visibility for those with fewer followers, in different timezones, with rarer ships, etc. Works will appear in random order so don’t worry about when you add or who else is posting. (This is also my first time setting up a collection, so bear with me if it goes tits up 😅.)

For those who do participate in the collection, please remember:

1. This collection contains 100% NSFW content. You must be 18+ to participate. 2. The prompts went out at the end of June, but fics can be added to the collection from July 1-31 only. 3. Fics must contain smut. 4. Must be appropriately tagged, especially for dubcon/noncon or other sensitive/triggering themes (and I trust we all know what the big ones are). While everyone’s personal trigger or squick can’t be accounted for, let’s be conscious and considerate of readers and each other as much as possible. I will remove untagged works. 5. Within both stories and comments, wherever posted or shared, no racism, sexism, anti-LGBTQ+, or other hate speech/slurs toward any group. No hate symbols or glorification of such (including Nazism, Confederacy, etc). No rudeness, bullying, or trolling. No character- or ship-bashing. This is a celebration of love, sex, sensuality, and eroticism.

Still want to join but not quite sure what’s going on? Here’s a quick FAQ:

1. Where are the prompts? – You can find them here. 2. Is there a word count? – Ideally, 100-1000 words (to ensure a focus on the smut). But hey, as long as it’s mostly erotica, knock yourselves out. 3. Can I write fluff? – Sure, as long as there’s something smutty in it. 4. Can I have a plot? – Sure, if it fits in 100-1000 words (or is extra smutty if it goes over).

Thanks, everyone, for your interest, courage, and effort.

- Mako💙

And again, here’s the link to the collection on Ao3.

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She never touches him directly.  When he’s earned her attention the strikes come from a lash, or his own belt, or the burning tear of magic across his skin. Every time she calls him to her she wears gloves. He sleeps in a thick shirt to keep the bite off the mountain nights off. The only time his skin is bare is before her, and the only things that touch it are air and pain.

The twelfth week finds him struggling to stay on his feet, his hands going numb in their white knuckled grip on the rope he’s clinging to.  There’s electricity rushing over his skin, up over his shoulders and pouring down his throat until it smothers his voice in his chest. The need is heavy in his blood, and when the lightning crackles out he stumbles, breath twisting out of him full of broken edges.

He knows nothing beyond the borders of his skin, the thrum and howl of the sickness inside him transmuted by every strike she lands into something all consuming.

The palm of her hand on the back of his neck drops him to his knees, shattered on the floor at her feet.

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because there's this piece of fanart. and then there was a conversation.

Pepper pulls him aside on a Thursday after he's stopped by to have lunch with Tony.  Steve knows he stands out a bit in the polished halls of Stark Industries; his jeans are clean, but they're jeans, and for all he spent on them he's still wearing motorcycle boots.  She catches him as he walks past her with a hand on his elbow.  In the shoes she's wearing, she's only an inch shorter than he is. "Good morning Ms Pepper," he says. They don't have many jokes between the two of them, but he likes that one. It usually makes her smile at least a little. For what are possibly the longest eight seconds Steve has ever experienced she just looks at him.  Finally, her mouth does the firm little quirk that usually shows up when she's about to say something that'll knock Tony off his chair. "Steve, I'm terribly sorry if this is overstepping, but I wanted to ask," her hand moves away from his elbow and he feels his eyes go a little wider when it drops to his back pocket. "Is this on purpose?" His back pocket, and the bright red handkerchief sticking out of it. He doesn't blush. He hasn't blushed since before the ice, but he almost wishes he were.  It might explain the dry mouth, and the way his throat has locked closed on his voice. Pepper is smiling at him, it's not a smile he's used to seeing pointed his way. She usually looks at Tony, and acquisition contracts, and sometimes planes like that. "Ah," Steve manages to smile back. He's not ashamed, he just maybe wasn't expecting to have this conversation here. Or with Pepper. Ever. "Yes, I know what it means." Pepper's smile got wider, and sharper, and she tucked the handkerchief deeper into his pocket, somehow managing not to crumple it into a lump as she did. "Well that's good information to have. May I ask, did you find what you were looking for with that gold pocket square two weeks ago?" Steve swallowed, it clicked in his throat. He shook his head. Pepper took her hand out of his pocket slowly, raising it slowly until it rested in the small of his back. "Would you still like to?"

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written for a kinkmeme prompt I can't currently find:

Avengers Read/Post to the KinkMeme . . . in BDSM verse"

NSFW, BDSM AU, not as beta'd as it should be.

“Have you seen this?” Tony looked up from his tablet to watch Clint deposit himself against the arm of the couch, his own tablet in hand. His legs looked like they’d given up on arranging themselves as soon as his ass hit the cushions, one hooked over the back of the couch at the ankle and the other foot on the floor. The jeans he was wearing had a rip on the inside of the left leg, flashing Tony a good six inches of tanned, well muscled thigh. “I’ve seen a lot more than that, Barton. We’ve showered together.” Clint rolled his hips up in the single most sarcastic motion Tony had ever seen.  “And that’s the most you’ll ever get from me. No, this.” He turned his tablet to show Tony the screen. Blue header bars on a white background and a substantial amount of text filled the display. Tony raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me if I’ve seen the internet? Or just the one site?” “Stop being a jackass,” Clint said, turning the screen back toward himself and tapping intently. Tony’s tablet beeped twice, and threw up a chat window containing a link. Stark Industries was an industry leader in internet service, and modern communications, so Tony figured he ought to know better than to click on any random link sent by unsettled government assassins. His eyebrows resumed their efforts to merge with his hairline when the page loaded up with a half-decent graphic showing the tower, the Baxter building, and Xavier’s school. A banner stretched across the whole thing with CAPE-KINK MEME in bold capital letters along the length. Smaller text below that proclaimed Round 14 - Prompts. Tony started laughing. “I hadn’t seen this one, no,” he said, fingers already busy. He had the ‘Stark Naked Meme’ up and sent to Clint before he finished the sentence. “Doesn’t mean I’m surprised. The rest of you have a bit of catching up to do.” “Jesus, I did not need to see that,” Clint was goggling at his tablet in a sort of fascinated horror. “Don’t know what you’re bitching about, their digital artists are excellent.” Tony started scanning through the comments, smirking. Most of them were fairly predictable; variations on the theme of dynamic reversal, subs being forced down and liking it, switches who didn’t realize they were subs until they were forced down and liked it. Tony rolled his eyes hard at the last one. As though anyone was going to come out of a scene ready to commit to a collar if they were forced down without regard to their actual desires. “Hey, this one’s new,” he cleared his throat and read like he was giving a press statement in the open air. “Hawkeye slash Any, pregnancy-kink: Hawkeye and Any are in an established relationship, and whenever they aren’t fighting evil, Hawkeye goes around plugged up with enough water to give him a distended belly so the two of them can pretend he is carrying their baby. Bonus if he’s barefoot-in-the-kitchen. Double bonus if it’s Hawkeye’s thing, and Any only indulges it because Hawkeye likes it so much.” “What on Earth are you reading,” came Steve’s scandalized voice from the doorway. Tony craned his head over the back of his chair to grin at him. “Clint found his first Super-RPF meme.” “His first what?” “Bunch of people writing sexy stories about those of us in the superhero business.” Tony grinned harder at the half-shocked, half-intrigued look on Steve’s face, and waved him and the plate of food he was holding over. “Come sit down, we’ll continue your twenty-first century edification.” Steve hesitated a fraction of a second, his weight balanced over the ball of his left foot, before he moved toward Tony’s chair. He handed the plate over at as soon as Tony beckoned for it, and sank to the floor gracefully until he was sitting tailor-fashion next to Tony’s left foot. “You say that like nobody ever handed me something a little racy to sign.” “Did they now?” Tony said, eyeing the slider-style sandwiches and bites of fruit Steve had brought him. “Do tell,” he said, picking up one of the little sandwiches and taking a bite. They were good, no surprise, and reminded him it’d been a while since breakfast. Steve just watched him for a minute, and then said “You know there was a whole series of pin-up postcards, right?” just as Tony tried to swallow. Through a combination of sheer will, and a clear understanding that Steve was a terrible brat, Tony managed not to choke. “How many is a series?” Clint asked from his corner of the couch. He’d rearranged himself to be sitting on the couch like a normal human instead of sprawled up the back of it like the world’s strangest squid. “Six, I think.” Steve shifted, leaning back against Tony’s chair.  His side was a solid line of warmth against Tony’s calf. “Though, considering how long the shoot took, they probably had prints for more of them.” Tony threaded his fingers through Steve’s hair and tugged until overly-innocent blue eyes were looking up at him. “How many more, Captain?” he asked, and watched Steve swallow at his voice. “Yellow!” Clint snapped, irritation plain in the word, and the look on his face. “Things I don’t need to know include whatever the two of you are about to do next.” Steve turned a nearly unattractive shade of pink, and pulled his head up. Tony’s refusal to release his hair didn’t slow him down in the slightest. “Sorry, Clint.” “Whatever,” Clint muttered, but his shoulders were already coming down from around his ears. Tony forced his hand to relax, and eased his fingers out of Steve’s hair, petting it lightly back into place. He sent Natasha a quick message and sank back into his chair. Clint hadn’t been having issues about PDA lately, but they all had bad days, and maybe he’d found Cape-Kink because he’d been up all night pretending his bed didn’t exist. “Well birdbrain, we now have proof RPF has been around since the dark ages, what surprises you about this version?” he gestured vaguely with his tablet, before setting it on the side table to concentrate on his food. He felt Steve’s fingers curl loosely around his ankle under the cuff of his jeans when Clint accepted the change in topic. “Just because you’ve had teeny boppers writing weird shit about you since before you popped your first zit, Stark, doesn’t mean the rest of us have.” “How do you know they’re teeny-boppers?” Natasha said as she slid over the back of the couch, and immediately into Clint’s personal space. The last of the tension eased out of his jaw as she settled against him. “Okay, you read these,” he handed her the tablet, “and tell me you think they’re the ideas of experienced adults.” Tony smirked, and Natasha started scrolling through the threads. “Maybe they’re just experienced teens.” “How many of these are about ‘putting ‘em down hard, and making ‘em like it’?” Natasha said incredulously. “Does no one have any imagination these days?” Steve made an exasperated sound and leaned his head further into Tony’s hand. “That stuff was old when I was little. I’d kind of hoped it’d gone out with polio.” An inelegant snort came from the kitchen entrance as Bruce and Thor wandered in. “We’re never that lucky,” Bruce sighed, and dropped into the other arm chair. Steam curled up from the mug in his hand, the faint scent of honeysuckle drifting into the air with it. “Are we going to take a shot every time there’s a request for spanking?” “We’d all be too drunk to read in fifteen minutes,” Natasha waved off the suggestion. “Possibly even Steve.” Clint groaned, an exasperated little sound too edged with contented amusement to worry about. “How are none of you even surprised about this?” Bruce swallowed his mouthful of stewed flowers and grinned at him. “I googled ‘Avengers’ three weeks after we moved in. Four of the links on the first page were fan sites with the same kind of stuff on them.” “Thor?” the expression on Clint’s face was pretty much resigned at this point, but he’d always been thorough. Thor shrugged, “these seem not much different than the eddas from your viking past. What offense could I take?” The next expression to cross Clint’s face might as well have been a sign reading ‘Challenge accepted.’ He took the tablet back from Natasha, who let him, and flicked quickly down the page. “How about this being on here? ‘Thor subbing. That’s it, I don’t care to who, and I don’t care how, just somebody put him on his knees and make him like it.’” Thor blinked at him twice, and then laughed. “For any who would like to try, I can only find pity. My Jane has a very determined mind, and tells me sharing is beyond her abilities. Try another,” Thor said, grinning all the while, ”Mayhap you will have better success.” And the quest was on. They didn’t bother reading anything that started off with spanking, boot worship, or begging, since that was the sort of thing you could find on prime-time TV and not really in the spirit of attempting to shock a millennia-old god of thunder. It still left them with plenty of material. “Captain America is actually really really into no-pain, non-dynamic sex, but always ends up with people who want him to punish them hard. Eventually he gives up getting a sub who will let him spoil them, and stops seeing anybody.” Natasha read with a straight face, she was the only one could consistently get through the prompts without snickering or breaking for commentary. “Meanwhile Black Widow is all for gentle spoiling, and really wants to submit to him, but keeps suggesting really harsh scenes because everyone knows Cap is the Dom of Doms and is all about command.” Steve made a bewildered sound, and thumped his head back on the chair. “I’ve tried basic, and I gotta tell ya, it took forever because I was too bored to get off.” Tony snickered at him, and tugged lightly at the back of his hair. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not going to be an issue any time soon.” “It better not be,” Steve muttered, his tone just a little sulky. Tony picked up the last piece of orange from his plate, and put it to Steve’s mouth to quiet him. He got a soft lick to his fingers in thanks. Bruce cleared his throat, the corner of his mouth already twitching, “Stark always parades around like he’s a hotshit dom, but we all know what he really needs is a good spanking and someone to tell him not to make stupid decisions. So Hulk gives it to him.” Clint snickered, and then read off, “First reply, ‘How is Hulk supposed to tell him not to make stupid decisions? Do we even know if Hulk can think enough to make a decision?’” “‘Oh ffs it’s a kink-meme. Just go with it,’” Natasha took over again with the next comment in the thread. “‘This prompt says Hulk can reason. Either get with it or scroll past.’” Tony scoffed raised a hand over his head. “Veto. I call veto on any more ‘Stark is really a sub and we all know it’ ones. They are showing up too often to qualify for this reading.” “There are qualifications for this?” Steve was laughing up at him. It made something warm spread through Tony’s chest. “Yes,” he said, letting himself be as over the top as he liked, “and they exclude all prompts about me being a faker.” “Really? What else do these newly introduced qualifications exclude?” “Anything with you being a smartass, too close to reality.” Tony said with a nudge to Steve’s head. Steve only turned his face into the side of Tony’s knee to muffle his snickering. “Alright, this one won’t step on either of your egos,” Natasha said, “Since neither of you are in it. ‘Hulk/Thor/Pepper Potts - chastity device. Pepper Potts keeps both her monster cocks locked up until she’s in the mood to use them.’”  She paused, one eyebrow going up, and the serene expression on her face nearly slipped. “How considerate. It even includes a helpful link for suggested designs if people are in need of inspiration. “‘Bonus if you include a scene where she takes them to Tony to get the devices designed, fitted and adjusted.’” Tony snorted. “Like hell.” “Not a fan of chastity?” Natasha asked. She’d slid down until her head was resting in Clint’s lap, his hand at her waist. Both of them finally looked completely relaxed. Clint grinned lazily and scratched his fingers lightly against her belly. “Are we surprised Stark isn’t big on denial?” Tony shook his head. “Firstly, I never get to touch people Pepper is playing with. She has a rule. Second, it’s not the chastity I object to, it’s the cage. They’re a pain in the ass from a practical standpoint, pretty much guaranteed to make hygiene more complicated than it needs to be.”  He stroked the back of Steve’s head again when he felt the super soldier try to press his face even tighter to Tony’s thigh, like he was trying to burrow to safety. “I don’t see why I should bother with a sub who can’t keep their hands off their junk when I tell them to. Disobedience isn’t sexy. It just means you’re more interested in proving I’m not really the one in control, and you’re calling the shots. If that’s the case, I’m not interested.” Steve mumbled something into the space between Tony’s leg and the chair cushion. His neck was tense under the palm of Tony’s hand. “What did you say, Steven?” asked Thor. For a moment it seemed like Steve wasn’t going to bother to answer, but then he turned his head so his mouth wasn’t pressed against anything that could block the sound. “I said I like them.” Something cold settled in Tony’s gut. He’d known he was bound to fuck up occasionally, but he’d hoped it wasn’t ever going to be by shaming Steve for any of the things he wanted. There’d be a special seat waiting for him now, and it wasn’t in hell. Pepper would call a contract session, and give him that awful disappointed look, and Steve would spend the whole meeting staring at the table and not looking at him at all, and shit, shit, he needed to fix this. Under his hand Steve was still ripcord tense. “You’ve never mentioned them,” Tony said, more tentative than he’d been since they’d started sceneing together. Steve shrugged, a stiff movement of his shoulders, and started to pull his hand away from Tony’s ankle. Tony pressed his foot against the chair, keeping Steve’s fingers where they were unless Steve was going to put up more of a fight. Apparently he wasn’t, his fingers staying put, and relaxing slightly. Tony pressed gently into the hollows at the nape of his neck, kneading little circles into the tension the way he did whenever Steve was nervous or unsure during a scene. “Steve?” “I don’t need one,” he said, but he still wouldn’t look up. “No,” Tony said slowly, “I know you don’t.” Thor cleared his throat, “Perhaps,” he said when Tony looked over at him, “this is a conversation you should have in the presence of your Intercessor. It seems a topic which requires a clear head.” For all that Thor’s general opinion that the ways of mortals were strange and overly complicated, he understood the place of ceremony and formality better than no small number of classically, expensively, and exclusively educated people Tony had met over the years. He wasn’t wrong this time either. “You’re right. We’ll call Pepper, set this out properly.” Tony looked down at the blond head by his leg, the skin of Steve’s nape still blush-warm under his hand. “Okay?” With a deep, controlled breath, Steve drew himself up straight. He didn’t shake Tony’s hand off, which let the rigid clench somewhere behind Tony’s ribs ease slightly. For a long moment, Steve just looked at him, reading his face in that terrifying way he’d developed since their first meeting. “Okay.” Bruce forcibly redirected the conversation to other strange things available on the web, and the group disbanded for dinner not long after. ~ ~ ~ Pepper and Steve were already there when Tony got to the comfortable, well-lit room Pepper used as a personal study and library. He tried not to feel like he was late and already a disappointment. They’d agreed to start the session at 2:15 and it was only 7 minutes past the hour now. Reminding himself Steve always came half an hour ahead of time so he could talk through what he wanted with Pepper and make sure they were both clear about it didn’t really help. Pepper was in her favourite overstuffed papasan chair, while Steve was perched on the far end of the chaise, fingers nervously curling around the fringe of the little cylindrical pillow, and somehow looking small against the high back and arm. Tony sat down on the other end, and stretched an arm along the curving back. He stayed outside Steve’s space, but kept his spine loose and his legs uncrossed, leaving the curve of his body where Steve usually fit open in invitation. Steve smiled, small but true, and unfolded one ridiculously long leg to nudge Tony’s foot with his own. “Steve says this doesn’t need to be entirely formal,” Pepper said, picking up a coffee mug full of tea from the side table and cradling it in both hands. “Are you alright with that?” “Yeah, that’s fine,” Tony said to her, then to Steve, “however you want it is good.” Steve nodded, and deliberately set the pillow down on the cushion between them. “I don’t need it,” he said, certainty in every word, “and if you’re really not okay with it, I don’t want to.” He looked at Tony, nothing embarrassed or indecisive in his face. “I don’t want to do this if it upsets you.” “And we won’t,” Tony assured him. His fingers itched for Steve’s hair, but he kept his hands where they were. “Neither of us are going to suffer through something in this. That hasn’t changed.” Pepper raised her tea to her mouth, but Tony could tell by the corners of her eyes it was mostly to hide a smile. She thought they were adorable, and he knew it. “But you did want to discuss it,” she prompted Steve when she had her face under control. Steve nodded again, and opened his mouth, but he seemed to stall out there. A three count passed before Pepper stepped in. “What’s holding you up, Steve?” Steve shot a look at Tony from the corner of his eye, and then pulled his shoulders back. “I don’t want to disappoint.” Tony raised an eyebrow at Pepper, and waited for her nod. “You haven’t disappointed me yet,” he said as soon as she gave it, “and telling me about something you want is the opposite of disappointing.”  He paused a moment and then decided to push his luck. “How much of the hesitation is about what I said yesterday?” “Most of it,” Steve looked faintly sheepish about that, but not cowed. Tony’d never seen him look cowed, and he didn’t want to. “You said you like them,” Pepper said, her tone coxing in its complete neutrality. “Can you tell Tony why?” “It’s,” Steve stopped, and Tony could see him gathering his thoughts. The way he had to swallow twice before he continued was intriguing on it’s own. “I like the extra level of control. You tell me I can’t touch myself, and we both know I won’t. I don’t want it because I can’t obey you. But the idea that you did, like you put me away the same way you do a tool in the workshop, or, or your watch.” Steve brought his eyes up from his hands to meet Tony’s gaze and they were hot and deep, bedroom eyes and steady words, and Tony could feel himself thickening in his pants. “That’s why. And I know you’d insist on making it yourself. I know you’d never put anyone else’s work on me, Tony.” There was a long moment where the only sound in the room was the light strains of Pepper’s current preferred girl band while Tony tried to bring his brain back online. “You want a cage because you want to be one more thing I use and put away?” he could hear the way his voice had gone rough, and he absolutely didn’t care. He nearly bit his tongue when Steve nodded, something almost relieved in the way his mouth was softening. “You take care of your things when they’re important to you,” Steve said, and the color blooming in his cheeks and along his throat didn’t have a thing to do with embarrassment. “And,” this time it was Steve who glanced at Pepper and waited for her little nod of encouragement, “and you can’t leave bruises, but it, anything you made, would stay where you put it.” Well when you put it that way... “Give me two days for design and material testing.” ~ ~ ~ He called Steve down to the workshop almost exactly forty-eight hours after the negotiation session finished off. In a fit of either cruelty or masochism, Tony hadn’t actually laid a hand on him since mauling him in the elevator on the way back up from Pepper’s floor. Which didn’t mean he’d left Steve alone, of course. But having him kneel and hold position while Tony looked at him wasn’t nearly as satisfying for either of them. Steve might not have been waiting for him to call, but he certainly didn’t waste any time coming down. Two minutes after Tony had asked JARVIS to ask for him, he appeared at the workshop door. He was wearing the jeans he liked to paint in, a little loose around the thighs and hips, and stained in several places with oils and something that might have been shellac, Tony wasn’t actually sure. He was also wearing one of the many t-shirts Tony had furnished him with. This one was a rich jewel-toned green that clung to every ridge and valley on his torso. It had acquired a spattering of paint drops of its own in shades of white and pale yellow and peach. He looked edible, and maybe a little hungry, if the quick way he was crossing the workshop was anything to go by. “Tony,” he said, “JARVIS said you wanted to see me.” “I always want to see you,” Tony smirked at him, making no pretense about eyeing him up and down like he was figuring out where to start taking clothes off him. “More to the point, I have something you want to see.” There was a flush beginning at the base of Steve’s throat, and desire kindling in the tension of his thighs, his weight rolling up on his toes like he was going to pounce. It never stopped being gorgeous, the way Steve wanted with his whole body. Even better, no matter how much he wanted he waited on Tony’s order to receive. The power trip of the whole thing was amazing. Tony waved Steve forward and fell in beside him, guiding him to the appropriate table with a hand low in the small of his back, the edge of his pinky slipping beneath the waistband of those worn, soft jeans. “Number,” Tony said, “one to five, how hard are you right now?” “Two, but give me another ninety seconds, and it’ll be closer to four.” Steve looked down at him, eyes hot. “Did you?” “I did,” Tony let his own smile edge a little dark at the way that made Steve shiver against his hand. “But two-to-four isn’t where I need you right now. Can you bring it down on your own?” Steve looked down at the table as they came to a stop, but the only thing there was a black cloth over something that was nothing more than indistinct shapes at this point. Tony looked down as well, but focused on the very familiar shape making itself known through Steve’s jeans. After a moment Steve shook his head. “I could try, but every time I look, I’m just going to work myself up again.” “Hmm, I thought that might be an issue,” Tony guided him around so his back was to the table and then stepped away. “Open your jeans, then put your hands on the edge of the table.” He turned and headed to the kitchen corner of the lab, and the freezer there, calling over his shoulder, “don’t peek.” Obedient as always, Steve was standing against the table, jeans open and pushed down around the top of his thighs when Tony walked back over with a towel and a bowl full of ice. He swallowed hard when he saw it, and visibly braced himself, shifting his weight and resting more of it back against the table, the edge pressing into the curves of his ass. “Okay?” Tony asked, stepping into the space between Steve’s legs and setting the bowl on the table behind him. He could feel Steve shiver as the cold leached out from the bowl, brushing against his skin. Steve let out a breath with only the tiniest hint of a tremor and nodded, “green,” he said. His eyes blinked open, and he looked at Tony imploringly, “kiss me?” Never really interested in turning down that particular request, Tony leaned in and did as asked. Steve’s mouth opened for him immediately, welcoming and sweet and hungry. He tasted faintly of apples, and Tony spared a thought to when lunch would have been, even as he was sinking both his hands into the ice and melt water in the bowl. He pressed in close as his hands started to ache with the cold, and took Steve’s mouth like it was his by right. Steve groaned into it, and then choked into staggered gasps as Tony wrapped freezing cold hands, each with a palm full of ice chips, around his cock and balls. Steve had minimal body hair most of the time anyway, and he’d been waxed smooth yesterday for exactly this reason, so there was nothing at all between him and the cold. He jerked out of the kiss, and buried his face in Tony’s shoulder, hips making desperate little hitching motions as he forced himself not to pull away. Tony kissed him on the throat, and made low soothing noises as the ice melted and Steve shuddered against him. “You’re so good for me, sweetheart. Just another minute. You’re doing so well.”  He could almost feel warmth against his fingertips now, so Tony carefully pulled away one hand, and reached back into the bowl for more ice. “Deep breath,” he said, and pressed the piece he’d picked up right against the head of Steve’s cock. The noise that pulled out of Steve’s chest didn’t have enough volume to be a wail, but it was certainly in that family. Something helpless and not quite hurting as his body went completely still except for the fine shivers running through his skin. “Good. Good, Steve, that’s just right.” Tony purred into his ear as he reached for the towel, and dried his hands. “I’m going to step away for just a second, alright? You don’t move.” “Alright,” Steve’s voice was a little higher, and a little breathier than baseline, but pretty standard after Tony had iced him. He hated the cold, but they’d both agreed it was the best way to get him soft, and he took it so very well. “Good,” Tony kissed the line of his jaw again, a hint of teeth against the skin. He brought the towel down to pat away the water from Steve’s groin and stepped away. Steve’s eyes were closed, which was probably for the best, as Tony finished drying his hands, and reached behind Steve to bring their new toy out from under the cloth. He was far more pleased with it than he’d expected to be, but at the same time it was for Steve, so of course it was one of a kind and a spectacular piece of engineering. “Do you want to see it first, or should I just put it on you?” Right away Steve’s eyes jumped open, flicking first to Tony’s face, and then down to his hands, and the metal thing he was holding. Tony let him look. The cage currently looked like a set of four rings, three attached to each other by thin, flexible, rods of metal in a sleeve like configuration, and one attached to the top-most of those, and obviously meant to expand and shrink to tighten around the base of the scrotum. All of the rings, of course, were gold, with the rods connecting them Tony’s favorite hot-rod red. He saw the corners of Steve’s eyes crinkle faintly with amusement at the colour scheme. “Thoughts?” Steve had to swallow twice before he could answer, and Tony was thrilled to see him work for the ability to do so. “Iron Man colors?” “What else? You want me to leave a mark on you, that’s what I’m doing.” “I thought it might- I mean, when we talked about it,” Steve trailed off, eyes still stuck on the metal in Tony’s hand. “You were expecting something more restrictive.” Steve flushed a little more and nodded. “Do you really think this is the whole thing, Captain?”  Tony stepped in close again, the rings had warmed up in his hand, but he wasn’t willing to wait long enough to cool them off again. He reached down, and slipped the three in the sleeve over the head of Steve’s cock, one after the other. He slid his thumb along the side of the lowest one where it rested just below the head, and watched Steve’s pupils blow a little wider as it snugged itself tight around him. The other two rings slid easily up the cold skin, making him shiver again as the last one settled at the very base of his cock. Pressure from two fingers on opposite sides of the ring had that one tightening down as well. Reaching back between his legs, Tony coaxed the soft weight of his balls down from where they’d retreated from the ice, and slid them through the last ring. “Pull them down for me,” he said to Steve’s arousal stunned expression. It took Steve a full two seconds to let go of the table edge. When he had done as told, and was stretching the skin of his sac down enough for his balls to be well out of the way, Tony pressed the last ring into place and squeezed. The ring shrank and flattened down until it was a band around the top of Steve’s scrotum, keeping the stretch in place. Tony stepped away again, and watched Steve examine his handiwork. The rich gold looked good against his skin, but it was the red that really stood out. Tony’s mouth watered just a little bit looking at him. Both Steve’s hands were back on the table edge, his knuckles white and his arms tense all the way up to his shoulders. Other than his cock, and the stretch of muscle between his groin and his navel, the rest of his body was still covered. It was, Tony thought, the very best kind of indecent. He let Steve look his fill, and smiled when those dazed blue eyes looked to him again. He knew the smile was probably a little cruel, just like he knew the way it made Steve shiver was a good thing. “Ready for the rest of it?” Steve nodded, every motion carefully measured, like he wasn’t sure where his control ended. “Yes, Tony. Please.” He was easily one of the sweetest Subs Tony had ever played with, leaving aside his physical sensitivity and endurance, which were wonderful on their own, the best thing about Steve was how very committed he was to pleasing his partner. The right tone of voice and a touch on his shoulder, and Steve would be on the floor in whatever position was dictated. It was a good thing he had a stubborn streak two miles wide, because if he hadn’t it would have been terrifyingly easy to take advantage of him. As it was he was demanding enough to be a challenge to keep up with. Tony stepped in close again and kissed him, licking into his mouth like the desperation had a flavor he could catch if he just tried hard enough. Steve opened up and let him, his mouth hot, and coaxing, as Tony slid his fingers along all the places the cage didn’t cover. He shivered, hungry little sounds creeping out of him, and Tony had to break the kiss to smile as wide as he could. “God you’re beautiful,” he said, and lowered himself to his knees. The metal made for an interesting contrast to Steve’s skin as Tony licked over them both, enjoying the chance to get his mouth on that pretty, pretty cock for the last time until he got back from Shanghai. Steve was choking out perfectly tortured gasps above him, twisting breath around his name like some kind of obscene prayer. He leaned back when he felt the length of it start to thicken and fill against his tongue. Looking up to see Steve’s face, flushed and blurry with heat made him smile. The shocky, gut-punched look that came when Tony pulled the last piece of the cage from his pocket, a block the size of a cigarette lighter, and hooked it to the ring at the head of his cock was even better. As soon as the connection was made, metal folded out from the block with the familiar sliding snick of the armor, attaching itself to the rods of the sleeve as well as each of the three rings covering Steve’s cock in plates of red and gold. Just before it finished, Tony curved the head back toward the last ring, the one locked around the top of his sac, and felt it click into place, the last four plates unfolding to cover the bare, tender skin, and locking closed around it. He pushed back to his feet, dragging himself up along the length of Steve’s body, thrilled at the way he was gulping for breath. Tony reached down, and tugged his jeans back up, buttoning the fly, and smoothing his t-shirt back down. Steve’s mouth was open and slack, so Tony kissed him, and pressed close, getting some much needed friction for his own erection against one of Steve’s fantastic thighs. He kept kissing until Steve’s hands let go of the table, and came to rest on his hips, just a little unsteady. “So?” Tony prompted. “Thank you, Tony,” Steve said, obviously still a little preoccupied. Tony stroked his hair back from his face, repeating the motion and petting down his neck and shoulders until Steve focused enough to meet his eyes and listen. “It works on biometrics,” he explained, voice low. “There’s a sensor built in that will monitor your bladder, and retract enough of it for you to relieve yourself. If you try to touch yourself while it’s open, the cage will deactivate, and inform me.” Pressed close all down the length of him, Tony could feel the way Steve’s breath caught and shuddered. It was gorgeous. “Your safeword will disengage it, and JARVIS can override it in an emergency. An inability to reach me for twelve hours qualifies. Clear?” “Yes Tony.” “Good,” Tony laced his fingers behind Steve’s head, and rocked against his thigh again. “The only person who can put it on you is me. You don’t need this, so wearing it is a privilege you earn. You break any of the usual rules, and I will take it away from you.” Steve looked clear headed and focused now, but no less turned on. “Yes Tony. Thank you.” Perfect, Tony thought, exactly where he wanted him. “You’re welcome. Now, you may be locked up, but I’m not. So, you’re going to get me off with your mouth, and then you can come upstairs with me and help me pack.” That snapped Steve the last of the way out of the happy fuzzy place he’d been since Tony had told him to open his pants. “Pack?” “Pack,” Tony said with a grin. “I fly out to China tonight. Won’t be back until Wednesday.” The look Steve gave him was somewhere between incensed and horrified. “Today’s Wednesday.” “So it is,” Tony said, grinning sly and pleased. “Now,” he tugged lightly downward, and watched with a shiver as Steve went to his knees.

[ficnotfound]

Alright, but for your consideration: Steve Rogers on some kind of sex machine, in front of a mirror. With instructions to pay close attention because he'll be required to draw this later.