Of all the people Tony’s ever seduced into bed for one night, Steve Rogers was the worst.
If he’d known how judgemental the guy was gonna be about his lifestyle, he would’ve thought twice about inviting him to live in the tower. (and then he would’ve invited him anyway, because he really couldn’t handle that lost, orphaned look that Rogers was terrible at hiding, and because he couldn’t resist the comic irony of offering up his “big, ugly” tower as a place to call home).
The joke was on him, though, because Rogers accepted his offer and moved in a week later.
If Rogers was naive enough to expect that Tony would adjust his infamously promiscuous behavior just because he had a 240lb, 6’2” boy scout living under his roof, now, that was on him. Not Tony’s fault that the guy was out of touch with reality. Tony liked sex; needed it, really, to keep his brain chemistry at optimal performance. There was nothing more effective than no-strings-attached sex to keep his overactive mind from tipping into the kind of territory that left him strung-out and agitated to the point that it affected his productivity — which, if you thought about it, really made this an international security thing, since Tony was an Avenger, now.
Cap hadn't thought it through that far, though. Didn't see the bigger picture. All he saw was some new, hot thing climbing all over Tony as they took the elevator up to the penthouse, and that judgy face was back in full force. He’d even gotten weird about it the day after, too, whenever he’d caught Tony at it again. As if, by radiating such obvious disapproval, he might actually shame Tony into rethinking his life choices instead of just provoking him to flaunt his playboy ways even more shamelessly, just to make a point.
That was all it was supposed to be. He was just trying to make a point.
He’d really miscalculated, though, when their weird little argument about “propriety” and “self-respect” had escalated past their usual passive-aggressive barbs and gotten unexpectedly direct; when he’d gotten all up in Rogers’ personal space because Rogers was being a dick so he'd felt the need to be an even bigger one; when he’d shot back with a sultry, “What... you jealous or something? Is that it, Cap? You tired of waiting around for your turn?”
There had been a challenge in his eyes, sure — and maybe he’d gotten just a tiny bit hard from even suggesting such a thing — but it still surprised him, the way that Rogers’ whole face had changed in response for one brief, spectacular moment before the stubbornness returned; but it was different, then... tinted with something that Tony recognized for what it really was, despite the incredulity of seeing it coming from Steve Rogers, of all people.
Maybe that’s why he’d done it. Maybe he hadn’t quite believed what he was seeing, and had wanted to test it — just to be certain.
Or maybe it was because he just couldn’t resist flirting with Captain America, because he was a horny disaster with a long history of bad decision-making when it came to screwing around.
Whatever the case, he’d gone from pissy to intrigued in a matter of seconds, turning on all of his famous powers of seduction as he shifted his stance and softened his gaze and adjusted the tone of his voice, prompting, “...All you had to do was ask…”
It was a very dumb thing to say. He gets that, now. At the time, though, he’d had no clue that the surprised, nervously uncertain, interested look that Steve Rogers would favor him with in response would burn itself into his memory and leave a lasting impression that would haunt him long afterwards.
That look, and the kiss that followed it.
That kiss, and the feeling behind it.
That feeling, and the mounting desperation to chase it off with more heat; more urgency; more careful hands feeling out new territory and getting singed by everything they touched, until everything burned too hot and groping turned to pulling and pulling turned to slamming against the elevator wall and by the time they made it into Tony’s bed and gotten each other’s clothing off, there was nothing left to do but completely immolate themselves on the fire they’d started.
That should’ve been the end of it. Ashes to ashes. Slip out of bed before the other person wakes up and let JARVIS handle the messy part.
But Tony had taken one look at Steve Rogers sleeping there and for the first time in a long time, his immediate reaction wasn’t the need to flee.
He didn't want to leave the scene of the crime.
What he did want was impossible to even consider, so he took great pains not to consider it.
Want something else, he’d vehemently told himself.
Which was how he’d ended up giving Steve Rogers a blow job that morning, since he’d honestly wanted to do that for a very long time.
You’d think the guy would be more appreciative… Tony knows that he gives exceptionally good head. But a couple weeks later, Tony’s still trying to move on and get back into the swing of his former lifestyle, and Rogers is moping around looking even worse than he’d been back before Tony had offered him new digs.
He’s making it impossible for Tony to just carry on and enjoy himself. Last week, when Tony had tried to bring someone up to his penthouse one evening, Rogers didn’t even have the decency to be judgemental about it. Instead, he’d looked at Tony with the most disappointed, sad-dog eyes in the history of face-making, and it had decisively killed Tony’s casual-hookup boner before he’d even had a hope in hell of getting it up again.
He’d had to send the girl home with apologies and lame excuses. He’d had to go to bed feeling frustrated and confused and super guilty about something he hadn’t even done.
Steve Rogers really was the worst one-night stand, ever.
He was also the last one-night stand, ever.
Tony had to swear it. Had to basically perform backflips and handstands of “I’m sorrys" in order to convince Steve to give him another chance. But when the big lug finally relented — when he managed to get over his stubborn reluctance and put his hurt feelings aside long enough to hear Tony out — the making up was totally worth it.
Steve might be the worst-ever one-night stand, but he’s far and away the best exclusive, all-mine-and-nobody-else’s long-term lover that Tony’s ever had.
