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“Do I hear thirty-one hundred for number fourteen? Going once, going twice – and sold for three thousand dollars,” Sitwell shouted, slamming his gavel down. Tony watched as the man on stage was led away by his leash, and the next slave was brought out to take his place, a young girl this time, probably around sixteen or seventeen if Tony had to guess. A fine age to start out as household staff.
But Tony wasn't interested in fresh meat. He was looking for something a little older, more experienced. He'd recently bought another property in the Hamptons, and he planned on staffing it with seasoned slaves instead of another newly broken thing that they'd need to train up into a proper servant.
“Number seventy-three has worked as a kitchen aid and handmaiden for eight years,” Sitwell said, and Tony raised an eyebrow. She'd been born into slavery then. Promising. “Her previous owners left their residence in the U.S and moved to France, so they released her back into the system on amicable terms. Number seventy-three comes with a glowing letter of recommendation, praising her hard word and dedication to her craft. She is quick to learn and an excellent cook.”
Tony leaned forward in interest. The girl did have very good posture, as if she was used to standing still for long periods of time. There weren't too many scars or blemishes on her skin, indicating that she wasn't unruly enough to need regular punishment. Perhaps she would make a good addition to his staff.
Sitwell waved a hand at the girl, and she obediently raised her arms above her head before she turned around, showing off her body. Tony eyed the black mark that traced the entire length of her spine, zig-zagging in several places, indicating a rather low pain tolerance. She would most likely be susceptible to a simple lashing if she stepped out of line. Which was important, if she was going to work in any household.
Not a good candidate for personal use though. At least not for Tony.
The girl's shoulders were curling forward, falling out of her careful posture. She looked uncomfortable. Perhaps she was remembering the moment she'd received her slave mark. Tony had been told many times that it was exceedingly painful, almost impossible to withstand without losing one's consciousness. Which only made it more impressive when a slave's mark was more or less straight. It meant that the slave was hardy, or perhaps defiant enough to try and hide their pain from their captors. Tony had always found the practice fascinating.
A lot of people preferred those with jagged marks even in their personal use, knowing that these slaves would be sensitive to all kinds of play. On some level Tony could understand why. He loved tracing the jagged edge of the mark at Thor's third rib with his tongue, playing with the trembling line that dipped between Natasha's kidneys. Those little imperfections that showed that despite their strength and stubbornness, there was a hint of vulnerability. A tiny crack in their perfect facade.
Tony had always liked the stoic ones. Strong and capable of bearing the pain he liked to dole out without a single flinch. Breaking someone with that much pride and poise was the highest form of pleasure. He didn't much care for the easy ones.
The girl was pretty though. And judging by her credentials, Tony was fairly sure that she'd make a decent addition to the kitchen staff.
“Bids start at five hundred dollars,” Sitwell said, and Tony raised his sign.
“One thousand,” he said, a modest bid that one of the other guests trumped almost immediately. Tony kept chiming in until his offer of four thousand got outbid by someone else. He didn't want the girl that much. And he'd already acquired two more slaves for his staff tonight. Another one or two would be preferable, but Tony wasn't in any rush. It wasn't as though this was the last auction he would visit this month. This week, even. Tony got a lot of invitations.
The girl eventually went for nine thousand and four hundred dollars. She was ushered off stage as Sitwell announced the next slave in line, a man looking to be in his early twenties, obviously meant to be employed in the work force. He was muscled and tall, his head topped by messy, blond hair, and a scowl on his face that even his impressive beard couldn't hide. Tony sat up a little straighter in his seat.
“Number seventy-four came to us by way of being a prisoner of war,” Sitwell said. “He is trained in combat and will be best put to use with manual labor. Needs a firm hand to be kept in line.”
Tony looked the man up and down, a hint of arousal stirring in his gut. The man had a pretty face, perfect body and an aura of dangerous competence. Exactly Tony's type. But Pepper would kill him if he brought home another servant for his personal amusement. Not that he wasn't tempted, because this one really was a fine example of –
A hush fell over the room when the slave turned around, and Tony sat up straight in his seat, a soft gasp falling from his lips.
His mark was perfectly straight.
Tony's hands curled into fists as he stared at the thick, black line that ran down his back, dipping between his buttocks. He'd never seen anything like it. Tony picked up his opera glasses to take a closer look, sure that it had to be a trick of the eye, due to his distance from the stage – but no. The line was immaculate. Not a single wobble or curve.
This slave had withstood the pain of receiving his mark without a single flinch. Tony hadn't even thought it possible.
“Bids start at five thousand,” Sitwell said, and several signs went up right away. “One at a time, gentlemen.”
“Six thousand,” someone said, outbid almost immediately by, “Ten thousand.” Fifteen thousand. Twenty. Twenty-eight.
Tony was only half listening, his eyes still tracing the line on the slave's back. The man was standing with his head held high, and even with his back turned, Tony could imagine the look of defiance on his face. Like all of this was beneath him. Like he hadn't been broken in, not yet, still primed and ready for Tony to come in and – and –
“One million,” Tony croaked, only remembering to raise his sign when people started turning to look at him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from that thick, black line. “One million dollars,” he repeated clearly, ignoring the hushed whispers around him.
“Um.” Sitwell seemed stunned speechless for a second before he knocked his gavel on the podium. “One million. Do I hear one million and five hundred?”
The room was dead silent.
“Going once. Going twice.” Sitwell cleared his throat and slammed the gavel down again. “Sold for one million dollars.”
Tony sat back in his seat, taking a deep breath. He was half hard at just the thought of what he would do once he took that slave home with him. This man who didn't seem cowed even now that there was a price tag on his head, sold like cattle at a farmer's market.
Tony couldn't wait to take that pride and crush it under his boot.
There were more auctions afterwards, but Tony didn't stick around to see what else he might find on the market. Instead he headed to the back room, settled the paperwork, made out a check to the vendors and then went to the cages to fetch his prize.
The man was kneeling upright in his transport cage – though Tony got the sense that the man would be on his feet if the small box afforded him the space to stand – and glaring defiantly as the attendant unlocked his cell and dragged him out from behind the bars. They hadn't taken off the two sets of cuffs on both his hands and feet, which probably meant that he'd given his handlers trouble in the past. Tony could appreciate a healthy dose of fighting spirit.
Hopefully the man wouldn't lose it for a long while. Breaking them in stages was always more fun than when they gave up after a single session.
Tony gladly accepted the leash, wrapping it around his wrist twice before he started tugging the man out of the room. He'd expected to need a lot more force to get him to play ball, but the man followed his lead well enough, probably knowing that there was no way for him to escape while they were still inside the auctioning hall, with its armed guards at every door. Smart man.
“What's your name?” Tony asked, but the man just kept staring straight ahead, completely ignoring him. So Tony grabbed the little plaque on the back of his collar, ripping it off with a strong tug so he could read it without running the risk of the man biting his hand. He hummed. “Steven Grant Rogers. Nice to meet you, Steve.”
Again, Tony got no reaction. He'd expected that. The anticipation would just make the moment that he finally got Steve to respond all the sweeter.
Happy and Jarvis met him at the door, and Tony held Steve still with a tight grip on his neck while Happy fastened two more leashes to Steve's collar, wrapping one around his wrist and handing the other one off to Jarvis.
“What about your other two purchases, Sir?” Jarvis asked, and Tony waved him off.
“I'll have them delivered to the Hamptons. Pierce will hold them for me for a few more days.” He looked at Steve. “Tonight, I'll only need this one.”
“Very well, Sir.” They started off towards the car, and Tony caught Steve glancing around the mostly empty lot, perhaps checking for possible exits. It was futile of course, given the security of the place, but it made Tony smile to see it.
“Don't try to run. You'll only embarrass yourself,” he said kindly, and once again, Steve didn't acknowledge his presence at all. His face was entirely blank, giving off the impression that he had checked out of what was happening entirely, but Tony didn't trust it one bit. This man wasn't the sort of person who would take a beating lying down. The defiance he'd seen on his face earlier proved that.
Which meant that he was waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And Tony would have to be exceedingly cautious to not give him one.
They loaded Steve into the back of Tony's car, attaching his chains to the hooks on each side of the interior. Jarvis slid into the seat next to him to keep hold of the leash as an additional security measure, not that Tony thought that Jarvis stood much of a chance in a physical altercation.
“Take us home, Happy,” Tony said as he hopped into the passenger seat, patting Happy on the shoulder. “No detours, please. I want to unwrap my present.”
“You got it, boss.” Happy pulled out of the parking lot, driving past a multitude of guards with machine guns. They cleared the first two barbed-wire fences without trouble, flashing their IDs at the last gate before they were finally off the premises. Tony shook himself with a dramatic sigh.
“Phew. Still creeps me out every time. Bet you're glad that you're finally out of there, huh, Steve? Anywhere is better than that shit hole.”
He knew that it wasn't smart to provoke the slaves, especially the volatile ones, but that had never stopped him from doing it anyway. He loved getting a rise out of them more than anything after all.
“What do you like to do? Knit? Read? Model?” Tony smirked. “I can make it happen for you. Just follow the rules and you'll have a good life, I promise.”
Steve was staring straight ahead, not even looking out the window. Tony watched him through the rearview mirror, trying to catch even the slightest change in his expression.
“You do want a good life, don't you? I bet it's all you dreamed about in your little cage. Oh, when's a dashing young man finally going to pick me and get me out of this place,” Tony simpered, complete with a hand on his forehead. “Well, today's your lucky day. I'm going to give you the princess treatment you dese–“
It happened in the blink of an eye. One moment Steve was chained, sitting placidly in his seat, the next he had ripped his shackles out of the wall of the car and was holding Jarvis in a choke hold, the length of chain wrapped around his neck.
Tony smoothly pulled his gun out of its holster and aimed it at Steve's forehead.
“You still have family, don't you?” he asked, his tone cool and even. “Friends? Loved ones?”
Steve glared at him defiantly. The man had balls, Tony had to give him that.
“I have friends in high places,” he continued. “Law enforcement. Government officials. And friends in low places who know how to make it look like an accident.”
Steve slowly loosened his grip until Jarvis could suck in a ragged breath. Tony smiled.
“Good choice,” he said, tucking his gun away again. “Now let him go.”
Steve removed his hands entirely, and Jarvis reached up to fix his tie, tugging the lapels of his suit back into place with cool efficiency.
“All good?” Tony asked, and Jarvis gave him a crisp nod.
“Of course, Sir. No harm, no foul.”
“Oh, no. I won't brush the harm done under the rug.” Tony looked Steve dead in the eye. “Apologize.”
Steve stared at him with an expression of utter hatred on his face. Tony reached into his pocket to take out his favorite taser, waving it through the air before he aimed it at Steve's face and pressed the button. The resulting sonic frequency made Steve's muscles lock up, his teeth gritting from the pain. But he barely moved, didn't even make a sound. Tony's cock stirred in his pants.
“Just so we understand each other,” Tony said, spinning the taser between his fingers before he tucked it back into his pocket. “Don't worry, that'll wear off in about twenty minutes. Try not to piss yourself in the meantime.”
Steve's face was utterly expressionless again, but Tony thought he still detected a glint of rage in his eyes. Good. Tony wanted him stubborn and ready to defy him when he finally started taking him apart.
He knew from experience that it wouldn't last long. Better to savor it while he could.
By the time they finally pulled into his private residence, Steve seemed to have accepted his fate. Or at least he didn't try to fight them again when he was pulled out of the car and led inside Tony's mansion, stumbling a little from the aftereffects of being paralyzed.
“Home, sweet home,” Tony crowed as he pushed through the door, arms spread open wide. “You see, Steve? If you play your cards right, you can live in luxury. Just don't fuck it up.”
“Welcome home, Tony,” Natasha said with a smile, looking up from where she was scrubbing the foyer floor. Tony bent down to kiss her, making sure to slip her a bit of extra tongue just to paint Steve a clear vision of his future. He smirked when he caught the hint of revulsion on Steve's face. Finally, some reaction out of him.
“I'd give you the grand tour,” Tony said as he straightened up again. “But I prefer to have the new ones to myself for a little while.” He snapped his fingers. “The red room, please. Washed and dried.”
“Yes, Sir,” Jarvis said, and six of Tony's armed guards fell into step as Jarvis led Steve towards the back of the mansion. Tony made a detour to the kitchen to get himself a snack and a squeeze of his lovely staff – Darcy's tits were always worth the trip – before he had Thor make him a drink, letting him pop stuffed olives in his mouth while he sipped it.
He was just pondering the pros and cons of working out some of his pre-game jitters with a blowjob when Jarvis finally came back and gave him a deferent bow.
“Your new subject is ready for you, Sir.”
“Thank you, Jarvis.” Tony batted Thor's hand away, grabbing another drink for the road and making his way to the red room. Opening the door always felt a little like unwrapping the first present on Christmas Eve. And Tony definitely wasn't disappointed.
“Would you look at that,” he said fondly. “You clean up so nicely.”
All the grime of captivity had been washed away. With the way Steve was chained to the floor on all fours, Tony had a clear view of Steve's cock and balls hanging flaccidly underneath his body, freshly shaved and thus still looking a little raw. The black line down his back stood in stark contrast to his pale skin, perfectly bisecting his body into two halves, dipping between his cheeks and drawing Tony's eye to Steve's bright pink, lube-slick asshole. Tony licked his lips.
“Very nice,” he said, his voice pitching low and rough. Tony took his time in circling Steve, taking in every inch and angle. Steve's hair had been brushed and dried, revealing a honey color that hadn't been visible before. The brace around Steve's neck kept his head up, preventing him from hiding his face, just the way Tony liked it. Predictably, Steve wasn't looking at him, instead focussing on something in the middle distance, not a single emotion gracing his handsome features. Without the beard obstructing it, his jaw looked sharp enough to cut, his lips chapped but full. In time, Tony would make good use of them.
But not today.
“You know I can't let what happened in the car go unpunished,” Tony said, affecting a slightly contrite tone. “Trust me, I won't enjoy it any more than you will. But you understand that it has to happen, right? Jarvis deserves justice.”
Steve didn't react at all. Tony tutted, setting his glass down and heading over to the small table of supplies that had been prepared for him, rifling through his options.
“I'm curious about your mark. You were incredibly brave, weren't you? When they burned it into your spine? Or maybe you just don't process pain the same way as regular people, is that it?”
Again, he received no answer.
“I suppose we'll find out.” Tony finally chose one of the floggers from his collection, worn with use but not so much that the leather had lost its bite. He gestured at the shackles around Steve's wrists and feet. “Bring him up.”
At his command, the nanobots in the metal started twisting and reforming, hoisting Steve up until he was standing with his arms over his head, feet spread shoulder-width apart. For a split second, Tony thought that Steve looked surprised – confused, maybe – at his new position, but he hid it well beneath that already familiar stoic mask. Tony had to commend him for how stubbornly he'd held on to it so far.
If Tony played his cards right, that was about to change.
“Let's see how far that pain tolerance gets you,” Tony said as he walked around Steve to get at the glorious expanse of his back. He had to take a moment to admire the way the smooth skin stretched across well-formed muscles before he raised the flogger and took a swing right at the center of Steve's back, crossing his slave mark. The leather struck Steve with a loud slap, harder than Tony would've normally swung it as an overture.
Steve stayed completely still.
Tony hadn't expected a big reaction, but there should have been at least some movement. A slight flinch or a redistribution of weight. Hell, even a rise and fall of his ribs with an intake of breath. But there was nothing.
Tony's brow furrowed as he hit Steve again. And again. And again. His arm started burning with exertion as he kept raining blows on Steve's unprotected back, hitting his spine, his neck, the meat right above his kidneys, anything to get a reaction.
Steve took the assault without flinching.
After a full minute of this, Tony tossed the flogger to the side, grabbing his trusty bullwhip instead. The one that made even Thor shout the first time he'd used it. Wrapping it around his hand, he gauged the distance, taking a few practice swings through the air before he cracked it at full force across Steve's back.
He felt a sense of triumph when Steve's shoulders tensed at the unfamiliar sensation. But by the next swing, the novelty already seemed to have worn off. Even when Tony hit him at an angle that crossed the previous two welts left by the whip, Steve gave him little more than a slight twitch, his mouth still stubbornly closed.
The mark that had enticed Tony before now seemed to mock him the longer he stared at it.
Tony's face twisted with rage that he promptly unleashed on Steve's unresponsive body, whipping his back so hard that he was drawing blood on every other swing, a crisscrossing net of bruises and pain that should have made Steve scream bloody murder. But the most Tony got out of him was an almost inaudible grunt now and then, a shuffling of his feet here, a twitch of his hands there.
It was infuriating and magnificent at the same time.
When Tony finally stopped, he'd worked out most of his anger and frustration and only left room for an odd sense of awe as he looked at the result of his tantrum. Steve's entire back was a mess, raw and bleeding and probably exceedingly painful. And still, the only indication that Steve was affected by any of it was a slight elevation in his breathing.
“I have to admit,” Tony said, panting with exertion. “You're one stubborn son of a bitch.” He'd almost think the bastard didn't have pain receptors at all. Tony lowered the whip, walking around Steve to stare at his stoic face. “Do you go somewhere else in your mind? What's your secret?”
Steve raised his eyes to glare at him, still not uttering a single word. Tony tutted, walking closer until there was barely an inch between them so he could get a closer look. He should have maybe been more scared of being bitten, given that he hadn't chosen to gag Steve yet, but Tony wasn't worried. He'd personally overseen the creation of these shackles. Unless Steve had superhuman strength, there would be no breaking out of them.
“Maybe you're getting too comfortable,” he mused, sliding the handle of the whip down the side of Steve's face. “Or maybe you need more. Pain isn't enough for you, hm? Greedy little thing.”
Steve's eyes went cold and hard, clearly picking up on what Tony was putting down. With a body like that, Tony had no doubt that Steve had been fucked before. Who could possibly resist that temptation? Or maybe Tony had gotten lucky, and Steve had somehow stayed a virgin all those years, until he'd become a prisoner of war and been sold into the slave trade. Tony would love nothing more than to show him exactly what he'd been missing.
But for now, that wasn't what Tony had in mind.
He got both hands on Steve's nipples, squeezing them between thumb and forefinger and giving a cruel twist. Steve's jaw clenched, his nose wrinkling at the clearly unfamiliar pain, but he still didn't open his mouth. Tony wondered what his voice would sound like when he broke, if it would be deep and exhausted or high-pitched and desperate. Either option would be wonderful.
“I bet you were popular in the cages,” Tony mused, twisting Steve's nipples the other way. “I've heard of the things that happen to pretty boys like you in there. Or maybe you were the one fucking your way through the pickings, hm? My little stud?”
Steve gave him a look of such disdain that Tony couldn't help but laugh.
“No, you're too much of a prude for that, aren't you? I can tell you haven't fucked anyone before.” Tony smirked. “If you take the rest of your punishment like a good boy, I might be persuaded to –“
A glob of spit hit him right on the cheek. Tony didn't flinch or lose his smile, just reveled in the fact that he'd finally hit a nerve as he wiped it off, rubbing the moisture between his fingertips.
“I do love it when I'm right. Have you even touched yourself? Or is that beneath you too?”
Tony brought his slick fingers down and placed them ever so gently on the tip of Steve's limp dick. That alone wasn't enough to get a reaction out of him, but Tony had his number now. Steve was the kind of man to pride himself on self-control. Being a master of his body, even if he couldn't be the master of his self. And nothing would hurt him more than losing a battle against his own desires.
Tony would take great pleasure in showing him.
“The pain doesn't even matter to you, does it?” he asked, keeping his voice deliberately soft. “You can handle anything I throw at you. Because you're strong and resilient. You're a survivor.” Tony's lips twitched with a smile. “But you should know – you're not rough and hardened all over. Every man has places that are soft and delicate. And you can't hide them from me.”
Tony flicked his thumb over the head of Steve's cock, drawing back the foreskin just a smidge – and Steve flinched.
It wasn't a big movement by any means. But Tony was so focused on Steve's reactions that it seemed like a giant, red neon sign pointing right at the man's potential weakness. Tony grinned, repeating the motion and eliciting a similar if more suppressed shiver. Bingo.
Steve's shoulders were knotted with tension now, as if he knew that Tony had smelled blood in the water. Tony tutted under his breath and – with a touch as gentle as he could make it – stroked the tips of his fingers down the side of Steve's cock. He didn't get a reaction this time, but that didn't bother him. He'd have Steve begging for more soon enough.
“That feels good, doesn't it?” he asked quietly. “It's alright to feel good sometimes. Don't try to fight it, Steve. The flesh always wins over the mind.”
Sure enough, it only took a couple more light caresses before Steve's cock started to fill out, becoming ever so slightly firmer under Tony's touch. Tony took his hand off, licked his fingertips, and then – with no warning – squeezed Steve's cock head in his fist while he circled his thumb over the slit.
Steve gasped – gasped – and tried to twist away from the touch, a slight tremble in the skin just under his ribs as his stomach muscles fluttered. Tony grinned, a rush of triumph singing in his veins, almost overshadowing the arousal in his gut.
“Oh, did you like that?” he simpered, and Steve was clearly trying to hold still, keep up his stoic veneer, but Tony changed his grip every few seconds, squeezing and stroking and pinching in an unpredictable pattern that made Steve flinch and shiver uncontrollably. “So that's what it takes. All that strength, all that willpower, and a little pleasure is what breaks y–”
Tony startled when Steve suddenly lunged at him, his eyes wild and mouth twisted in a silent snarl. His hands and feet remained trapped, but for a moment he actually surged forward, tugging the nanobots out of alignment, far more than he should have been able to. Tony took a hasty step back, giving the shackles a sharp look.
“FRIDAY?”
“Adjusting for new parameters, Sir,” FRIDAY said, and Steve's head whipped up, momentarily startled out of his aggressive demeanor. The tension in his body remained even as he sagged back into his bonds, staring at the ground with fiery eyes.
“That's my AI,” Tony said. “Nobody else is watching. Wouldn't want to give anyone a show.” Tony smirked. “What happens between us stays between us.”
Steve didn't look reassured. Actually, he looked like he was seconds away from spitting right in Tony's face again. Tony chuckled.
“Don't worry. When you break, it'll be just for me.” He took a step closer, getting his hand back on Steve's cock. “I'm the jealous type, darling. No one else gets to see you like this. That's my privilege.”
For the first time since they'd started, Steve tried to pull away. The shackles gave him more than enough room to twist his hips in an attempt to keep Tony's hands off him, so Tony clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers.
“Keep him still. Hold his chin up too, I want to see that pretty face.”
The nanobots formed a tight ring around Steve's waist, more metal melting out of the ground to create a sturdy X-frame behind him for the shackles to pin him up against. Steve struggled in his bonds, his eyes widening a little when he realized that he couldn't move anymore, right before the neck brace settled in place and forced his chin up. Tony looked him up and down leisurely, taking in every inch of bare skin before his eyes settled on Steve's cock, still half-hard and flushed a rosy pink that made Tony's mouth water.
“That's better,” he said as he took a step closer, running his hands down Steve's sides and back up over his ass. He couldn't help himself from copping a feel of his back too, reveling in the knowledge of just how much it would sting – and the lack of noticeable welts made him pause.
Tony twisted around Steve to get a look at his back – and the cuts were already mostly healed, dried blood sticking to fresh, pink skin. His eyebrows raised as he met Steve's defiant gaze, his lips tilting up in a smirk.
“Well, that's interesting. You and Thor will have a lot to talk about. He has a healing factor too.”
There was a brief moment where Steve's facade broke and let Tony see a hint of despair underneath – perhaps he'd hoped that his mutation would be enough to dissuade Tony from actually keeping him here. It would explain why Steve hadn't fought him harder on the way to the mansion. Tony knew that most of the people who could afford to buy slaves for pleasure only wanted human ones, for security reasons or simply because they were bigots. But Tony wasn't deterred. In fact, he was intrigued.
“So. Healing and super strength.” Tony cocked his head, eying Steve critically. “Anything else I should know about?”
Steve glared at him, his hands clenched into fists.
“That's alright. I'll find out soon enough.” Tony gently rested his hand right over Steve's heart, a little surprised when he felt how rapidly it was beating underneath. He whistled. “Wow. Wouldn't ever know it by looking at you. Are you scared?”
Steve's expression didn't change, as if it was frozen on his face. But the fire in his eyes betrayed him.
“You don't have to be. I'll take good care of you, I promise.” Tony slowly dragged his hand down Steve's chest and across his stomach until he reached his cock. “You just sit back and enjoy it, darling.”
He savored the motion of wrapping each individual finger around Steve's cock before he finally dragged his hand up and down, again and again, steadily coaxing it to full hardness. Steve held perfectly still, which was exactly what Tony wanted. A false sense of security, letting him think that he could remain stoic and unmoved throughout all of this.
When Steve's cock was standing up stiff and flushed, Tony took his hand away. Again, Steve didn't react at all, staring straight ahead into nothing. Tony smiled, stepped a little closer until he was standing directly in front of Steve –
And put his hands on his hips.
They stayed like that for a while, like a pair of dancers frozen in time. The only movement was the steady circles that Tony was tracing into Steve's hip bones with his thumbs, slow and deliberate. He could tell that Steve was anticipating his next move, expecting him to go for his cock again – but instead Tony worked his way inwards slowly, following the V of Steve's hips and massaging every inch of skin along the way.
Just before he reached the base of Steve's cock, he switched it up, putting his hands on Steve's thighs instead. He worked his way towards Steve's cock again, which had flagged a little but was still dripping precome, and before his fingers touched it, he reset, starting at the top of Steve's abs this time.
The longer he went on, the more Steve's breathing sped up. Tony wasn't sure if Steve even noticed it, but that didn't matter. Tony did. And he was going to take full advantage of it.
To his utmost delight, Steve's cock was getting harder again. It didn't matter how hard he fought, Steve couldn't escape the fact that Tony was making him feel good. That had to be a crushing blow to his pride, if nothing else.
When Tony finally – after what had to have been at least twenty minutes – let his fingers brush against the base of Steve's cock, the sharp intake of breath he got in response made him smile.
“There you go,” he said quietly. “That feels good, doesn't it?”
Delicately resting his fingers on the tip earned him another choked noise that Steve clearly tried to bite back. Tony looked him dead in the eyes as he went to his knees, leaning forward until he could replace his fingers with his tongue, just letting Steve's cock sit there while he waited.
Steve was staring down at him like he expected Tony to bite his cock off if he looked away. For a few minutes, Tony let him wonder what he was going to do next in perfect stillness.
Then he closed his mouth around the tip, licking carefully along Steve's frenulum. It was the most sensitive part of a man's cock, and Tony knew from experience just how intense this felt, especially after waiting for as long as Steve had by now. Steve's arms twisted in their bonds, muscles flexing as he clearly tried to tear himself free, biting his lips so hard that Tony could see a smudge of blood at the corner of his mouth.
It was beautiful.
Tony kept going like that, never speeding up or changing his movements. After a couple of minutes, Steve's thighs started to twitch. A little while later, he was huffing desperate breaths through his teeth. And when it looked as though Steve was going to come soon, Tony finally got what he'd been waiting for – Steve's hips jerking forward in an attempt to fuck Tony's mouth.
Tony pulled away immediately.
The noise Steve made was incredible. A tortured groan that ripped from his throat like a raw and bleeding wound, slicing right through his unaffected facade and leaving him cracked wide open.
Tony didn't give Steve the time to center himself again. He grabbed Steve's cock in a tight grip, stroking him fast and hard only to stop again a few seconds later. Steve gasped, swaying forward to try and shove his cock back into Tony's hand.
As soon as the horrible realization of what he'd just done lit up Steve's eyes, Tony did it again – squeezing Steve's cock even harder before he abruptly let go. Steve barely muffled his shout in time, his eyes wide and panicked. There was a sheen of sweat at his hairline and a faint trembling in his muscles that told Tony everything he needed to know.
This time, Tony rubbed his thumb across the head of Steve's cock on every stroke, spreading the precome gathered there down the length of his shaft. Steve tossed his head back, straining and writhing to get away from Tony's hand, but it was no use. The nanobots held him perfectly in place, where he could do nothing but endure Tony's torture.
Tony kept going until Steve's thighs started to shake, his cock throbbing in Tony's grip – and then he let go. Steve gasped like he was coming up from under water, desperately sucking in air. He'd probably been holding his breath.
Tony watched him like a hawk as he leaned forward and rested the tip of Steve's cock on his tongue again. Steve grunted explosively, his whole body twitching with the force of it. His cock was leaking directly onto Tony's tongue, pulsing with need. It wouldn't be long now before Steve lost the battle against his own body.
Tony sat there patiently, not moving an inch as Steve's abs kept clenching and releasing, like he was fighting the urge to fuck Tony's mouth with everything he had. When it didn't look as though Steve was desperate enough to act yet, Tony helped him along by closing his mouth, holding the tip of Steve's cock between his lips.
Tony was rock hard as he watched Steve try and fail to keep himself under control. With every second that passed, Steve's muscles coiled tighter, his breathing coming faster. Tony knew that if he started sucking Steve off properly, he would most likely come within the first ten seconds.
But that wasn't what he wanted. If Tony was the one who got Steve off, it wouldn't hit Steve nearly as hard. No, Steve had to be the one to take that final step, to bury his cock inside Tony just to make the torture end, knowing that he hadn't been able to hold out.
To speed things up a little, Tony started rubbing his tongue ever so slightly back and forth along Steve's frenulum – and Steve moaned, a sound so filled with surrender that it made lust surge through Tony's entire body. Jesus fucking Christ, he wanted to make Steve sound like that every day for the rest of his life, to bring him right to the brink of insanity, strip him of his stubborn pride and leave him bare and shivering for Tony to sink his teeth into.
He grabbed Steve's ass in both hands, digging his fingers in to the point of pain – and finally, Steve gave up, thrusting into Tony's mouth once, twice, and coming with a strangled shout. Tony barely waited until Steve had ridden it out before he got up, tearing his fly down as he stumbled his way behind Steve.
“Bend him over and spread him,” he barked, and the nanobots rearranged Steve to bend forward at a ninety-degree angle, his hole still glistening with the lube that Jarvis had prepared him with earlier. Tony tugged his cock out and stuffed it right into Steve's hole, groaning at the tight clench, the friction, the heat. His mind was blissfully empty as he hammered his cock into Steve, finally getting the release he needed when Steve let out a muffled sob that practically flung Tony into orgasm. He moaned as he emptied his cock with a few more unsteady thrusts, pressing himself against Steve's quivering body.
When he was finally done, he patted Steve's flank, pulling his cock out and wiping it clean with a soft tissue from his supply table.
“Let him down,” he said, dabbing the sweat off his forehead as the nanobots set Steve down on the floor. Tony sauntered over to get a closer look at Steve, smiling at the naked devastation in his eyes. “Hey, cheer up, darling,” he said, reaching down to lift Steve's chin with one finger. “It'll get easier with time.”
There was no hint of defiance left in Steve's body when Tony left. It would return by tomorrow, he was sure, but eventually it would fade entirely, and Steve would come to love Tony's attention just as much as Thor, Natasha or Darcy did.
“Don't let the bed bugs bite,” he singsonged right as he closed the door, eavesdropping just long enough to hear the first wave of wrecked sobs that rocked through Steve, music to his ears.
He already couldn't wait to have Steve again.