Work Text:
Served Cold
“Hi, Steve,” Tony said as he entered the room.
Steve smiled at him, feeling it falter at his mouth as he took in Tony’s expression. It was…off somehow. There was nothing he could put his finger on, nothing different in his insouciant smile or his glittering eyes, but it made the hackles stand up on the back of his neck. It looked…predatory somehow.
Tony glided, there was no other word for it, over to the chair where he sat, leaning down to look at what Steve was sketching and using his body to trap Steve in the chair, effectively towering over him despite being several inches shorter. “You hungry?” he asked, a peculiar intensity to the word.
Steve couldn’t hold back the shudder completely and he swallowed, feeling Tony’s eyes follow the bob of his Adam’s apple. “I could eat,” he ventured cautiously.
“Cool,” said Tony straightening slightly but still not moving away enough to allow Steve to stand unless he wanted to press their whole bodies together. “How about some fondue?”
Steve blinked, uncertain. “Fondue?”
Tony’s smile widened, but he still couldn’t parse the expressions there. “Fondue.”
Steve nodded slowly, shifting uneasily as he forced himself to conceal the reaction he couldn’t help but have as he wandered what – exactly – Tony was offering. Tony’s gaze scraped down his body like a physical thing and Steve was shocked at how hoarse his voice was as he asked, “And what does fondue entail.”
Tony sat on the arm of the chair, side pressed against Steve’s arm and each cell of his skin felt lit up with electricity at the heat radiating from the billionaire’s body. “Traditionally, fondue involves dipping cubes of bread into hot, melted cheese, but I thought you might want something sweeter.”
“Like,” Steve started, but his voice cracked humiliatingly, forcing him to start again, “Like chocolate?”
Tony leaned in close, like he was whispering a secret, his lips so close to Steve’s ear that he could almost feel the rasp of his beard. “Maybe.”
There was a beat of silence. Steve tried desperately to get himself back under control and stop the wild hammering of his heart in his ears.
Tony drew back, affecting an expression of exaggerated innocence and confusion, “But obviously you know what fondue entails. Didn’t you used to do it with my dad?”
Since most of his blood was no longer in his brain, Steve found it hard to think. Fumblingly, he grabbed for his scattered thoughts, trying, fruitlessly once again, to establish what Tony did and didn’t know and what he was trying to find out. “That wasn’t what fondue meant in the forties,” he rasped out.
“Huh. I thought fondue was invented in 1699.”
Steve blinked. He’d have no answer for that normally, and right now…”How do you even know that?” he blurted out.
Tony smiled enigmatically. “Maybe,” he said, a slight edge to his voice, one that made Steve want to roll over and bare his throat. “Maybe you misunderstood the word, Captain. Been using it in the wrong context.”
Steve tried desperately to think of something to say. “I didn’t think so,” he managed. “I had fondue with Howard loads of times.”
The effort to embarrass and distract Tony doesn’t work this time. Tony’s smile merely grew more pronounced and he put a finger in his mouth sucking it thoughtfully and almost hypnotising Steve as he considered. “Dad was almost such a social butterfly, far more so than mom. I’d have thought he would want a full dinner table, not just you and him having cosy Tête à Tête.
Fascinated by Tony’s spit slicked lips, Steve could only shake his head dazedly before muttering, “Wasn’t just us. Not always.”
Tony gave an affected gasp. “Exhibitionism, Steve? Surely not?”
Steve could feel a blush starting to rise in his cheeks, but gave it no thought, unconcerned with his pale skin for perhaps the first time in his life. “Howard liked to live life on the edge,” he said, his final last ditch effort, forcing what was left of his higher brain functions to watch Tony’s eyes. He must surely give something away, give away if he knew Steve had only been messing with him, or if he was testing the waters.
Tony stepped close again, between the V of Steve’s legs and there would be no hiding the straining erection he was sporting if Tony looked down. Steve’s flush darkened, but he couldn’t take his gaze from Tony as the engineer moved his lips so close to his own that he would just have to pucker up and they’d be kissing. “So, how many people do you like watching you, Steve? One? A dozen? A Subway Station full?”
Steve made a choked noise. “You know. You spoke to…Peggy.”
Tony drew back enough to give Steve a view of his smirk. “I did. You were teasing me.”
Steve nodded, a slight smile tugging his lips. “Yeah. But Tony, you should have seen the look on your face.”
“You should see the look on yours.”
Steve could only imagine what he looked like, hair damply sticking to his forehead, lips parted and panting, cheeks flushed, but before he could do more than give an embarrassed whine, Tony’s lips were back at his ear. “Up you get soldier boy. I’m going to show you a proper fondue and show why it’s not nice to tease.”