Work Text:
It's just the next thing to try, of course. Tony always has to try the next thing.
First, there was the poking with a sharp object, a pinprick and a yelp, and no, Bruce can handle that, right? And if the jerk-back, the yelp, if those things make Tony want to see what else he can elicit, well that's hardly his fault. It's science. And making Bruce, who is sort of unfailingly gentle when he's not somewhere in the ragemonster range (huh, that sounds like radar range, the stoves Tony used to see advertised as a kid...and there he is getting distracted again). Bruce who is basically gentle, always looks so startled, jumps so innocently, and God. Poking things to see what happens, that's Tony's area, so what's he going to do?
He's going to poke.
Next it's not a sharp object; it's the wet nose of a stray puppy, applied carefully and sneakily to Bruce's ear.
Best part: the puppy goes with licking Bruce's ear, and Bruce pretty much leaps off his chair, losing his focus on the science entirely, and the puppy whimpers and then he feels bad and goes gentle again, scritching little yellow-lab ears and cooing in a manner that Tony feels like he should be mocking, but goddamn, he just doesn't want to.
He wants to make Bruce jump, but without the distracting puppy, which he takes--as intended; he's impulsive but it's not like he doesn't have plans--to Clint to entertain Coulson with because who can overdo when it would mean disturbing a sleeping puppy? Besides, he's pretty sure they both need a dog something fierce. So the jump, that's good, but Tony needs to make it happen differently. He considers the problem while he tinkers with the generators on the S-12 enhancement system.
When he walks past the next morning, Bruce turns and watches him, and Tony does nothing. Tony doesn't even notice, by all outward appearance. He just goes and gets coffee and gulps it down too hot and bides his time.
Patient, he's not, but occasionally, very occasionally, he can wait.
As long as he's sure to give his mind plenty to do, like thinking more about ways to make Bruce respond in between considering improvements to the power grid; contemplating whether there could be a better shape or a better edge on Cap's shield; investigating why the new distribution system hasn't improved the output as much as he'd like on the J-26 line; and ordering, by way of JARVIS, some better lounge furniture for the room he's remodeling for the group. For their playroom. Teams need playrooms, right?
He slugs down the rest of the coffee and walks back past. Bruce turns again, and Tony calculates a drag coefficient and slides a lever on the next screen. "Huh." He walks back over to Bruce, and this time, Bruce sees him coming, hears him huh-ing, and apparently assumes this is a work walk-by.
Big mistake. Tony doesn't think about it at all. He just brings up the hand behind Bruce as they look at the harmonic signatures together, and he gets hold of Bruce's hair and he yanks.
What he doesn't expect (does want, does like, does feel it would be ideal to cause to happen again immediately) is that Bruce's startled jump is more gasp, more throat, less grimace, less scowl.
Tony tugs again, and oh hey, Bruce is a fan. Of having his hair pulled. Tony pulls again, harder, yanking Bruce's head back, and Bruce turns, stared at him, and leans back into a kiss Tony hadn't actually planned on offering today.
Not that he'd planned not to, but this is beside the point. Directly on point is this: Bruce melts against him, panting gently, and as Tony pulls hard, yanking his head back until it practically rests on Tony's shoulder, until Tony has free and easy access to his throat and his pulse, until Tony licks his way from ear to collarbone over the shudder and convulsive swallow that is Bruce's only response, he knows this is the next thing, and the best thing, and wow, wasting time waxing poetic--he turns Bruce around before him, leans him back against the countertop, and goes to work on his throat, fingers buried in all that hair, tugging and twisting his head back and listening to every gasp and rough rasping breath as the pulse under his tongue beats faster.
"Tony, Tony shit," Bruce is gasping. "Gotta, Jesus." He pushes Tony off him and lunges forward after him, latching his lips onto Tony's as they stumble together to the wall, and Bruce's hands are tearing at his belt, at his button, are shoving down his pants and then he's hitting the floor, knees landing with a probably painful crack and fuck, fuck, if they are going to do this, if this is going to be a thing, then Tony is goddamn redoing the floors to prevent this problem.
And then he has his fingers in Bruce's hair, tugging him forward as he sucks down Tony's half-hard cock like he's drowning for it. The harder Tony pulls him in and roughly yanks him back, the more eager his mouth, his tongue, and Tony knows he must he choking him but stopping seems impossible and fuckfuck choking Bruce had better not be a way to bring the Hulk because if that's ever where they're going it really needs to be in a controlled environment. But God, stopping sounds like the worst idea ever.
Still, he looks down, at Bruce's mouth swollen around his dick, at the strain in his eyes and the way he's jerking himself with one hand down his pants, and Tony shudders and says, shooting for casual and mostly getting nowhere near it, "I wanna fuck you."
Which, smooth, yeah. But it doesn't matter, because Bruce's pupils are blown wide with need and he's nodding furiously and pulling away, only to sprawl on the floor, and Tony doesn't feel like following him down is a choice. Christ.
In seconds he's on his knees behind Bruce's bare ass, his cock slippery wet with spit and his hand in that mop of hair again, He yanks Bruce's head back, and Bruce's legs go as wide as they can while remaining trapped in his pants at the thigh, and he begs a teeth-gritted "Please."
And who is Tony if not a man who aims to please? There's no way he's lubed enough, at least until they have a chance to discuss the topic, so he shoves between Bruce's thighs, pushing firm against his balls as Bruce brings his legs together in accommodation, and it's technically not fucking but who cares. He bends over him, pulling his head around, kissing his neck, his nape, his throat, and thrusts between his legs, taking in every whimper, every whine until he's shooting against Bruce's balls and Bruce is a quivering wreck beneath him.
He flips him over, grinning wildly, panting like a madman, and goes to work on Bruce's straining cock, sucking him in and tasting his own come that's spattered around.
Bruce has a gentle hand in his hair now, but he doesn't tug or press, and Tony looks up. Bruce is staring up at the ceiling, chest heaving, and Tony bites down, just a little, with his teeth.
Bruce's hand grips in response, and he comes.
Yeah, next thing. Best thing. Thing they're going to have to talk about.
Later.