Chapter Text
Steve sighed tiredly, eyes slipping closed at the feel of an open mouth pressed gently to the centre of his chest. That same mouth then moved to nip his collar bone, bite his neck, nibble his chin... Eventually he stopped tracking the scattered movements altogether, resigning himself to simply enjoying each new sensation coupled with the warmth radiating from Tony's body above him.
The pair was laying together in bed, slowly coming down from the high of several successive orgasms. The sex wasn't particularly different from the times they'd done it before the wedding, but seeing the gold band around the other man's finger somehow made everything feel permanent and more intense because of it.
Steve's breath hitched slightly when Tony's hot breath blew over his ear. Just a few seconds ago he had been certain that his body would be unable to do anything for a long time, but the quick spike of arousal made him think otherwise. His brain was so fogged with thoughts of possibilities that it took him a long time to realise that those puffs of air were actually spoken words. "Sorry, I missed all of that. Mind repeating?"
Tony huffed, amused. "I said, what if I called your mother a whore?" He challenged offhandedly before he returned to colouring his husband's body with too-quickly fading bruises, the question taking on the familiar structure of the silly game he liked to play.
Steve hummed, more his half-tired way of acknowledging the heightened level of creativity than anything else. Months ago such an insane question would have garnered some sort of reaction. Now though, he could say without a doubt that this was not, as ridiculously as it sounded, the most scandalizing proposition he’d heard from Tony.
“And why exactly would you be calling my Ma a whore?” he asked, eyes blinking open slightly to peer down at Tony as he worked at a spot below Steve's left pectoral. Honestly, he was certain that the reason wouldn’t matter, but he'd found that Tony always kicked up a fuss if he answered instinctively without asking at least one follow-up question.
“We were fighting or something and I just yell it. I dunno, roll with it," Tony murmured, sparing a bright, mischievous glance up at Steve.
Steve paused, trying to make it seem s as if he was considering the question in light of the new evidence, though he was really just internally debating the merits of getting up to shower over lazing around all day. “Oh well, 's na'so bad,” he replied finally around a yawn. The thick curtains on the other side of the room hid the bright Hawaiian sun from view but still warmed the room to the perfect temperature for idleness. Nap first, shower later.
Tony sat up unexpectedly, weight shifting to rest on both of Steve's thighs, his head tilting and brows knitting in the same way they did when he encountered a particularly difficult engineering problem. “I just called your mother a whore and you’re totally fine with that?”
“First of all..." Steve started, gently guiding the genius's lips back down to their previous position with a hand in his untamed hair. The action earned him a small laugh and a playful slap on the arm, but ultimately did get Tony back on task. "You never actually called her that. This is just a hypothetical situation you made up in that crazy brain of yours."
"'M not crazy." Muttered against Steve’s sternum, Tony's token defence of his sanity was pointedly ignored.
“Secondly, if we ever did get into a fight that was bad enough for you to just toss insults at me willy-nilly, then we can assume I'd give as good as I got. So, once we cooled off, we'd both apologize and everything’d be fine.
“So to answer your question, yes, Tony, I’d still love you even if you called my Ma a whore. Which you’d absolutely never do since my mother was a saint,” he added, giving his husband's bare ass a playful pinch.
Tony whined, wiggling his hips in a way that definitely wouldn't deter Steve's actions. “You’re a weirdo,” he huffed. “Also, no one says ‘willy-nilly,’ old man.”
Steve purposefully chose not to pursue the familiar line about his age, settling instead on silently rolling his eyes and wrapping his arms tightly around Tony's waist until he felt him give in and relax in a comfortable position against Steve's broad chest.
With Tony no longer adding to his masterpiece of coloured bruises, Steve felt the sparks of arousal ebb and was finally able to start giving into the pull of sleep.
After a long stretch of deep, quiet breathing and no movement from either party- just when Steve had started to believe that Tony had actually fallen asleep- Tony spoke up with renewed energy. “Oh, I know! What if I-”
“Annnnd, I’m done!” Steve announced, unceremoniously rolling Tony off of him and onto the bed. He ignored the surprised squawk as he made his way over to the bathroom without so much as a glance backwards.
“Ha!” Tony cried triumphantly from the tangled mess of sheets. “I knew I'd wear you down!”
“I still love you, you idiot,” Steve called as he closed the door behind him, making sure to lock it, too, for good measure. Love did not, as he was slowly learning, negate the need for alone time.
“Yeah, yeah, so you keep saying,” Tony groused, a cheerful note colouring his words.
Steve grinned at the clear sound of a smile in the other man’s voice. He knew he was slowly chipping away at Tony’s armour. It was only a matter of time before the truth sunk in.
They’d get there eventually. They had the rest of their lives after all.