Work Text:
Tony walked into the living room on the way to bed. It had been a while since he'd turned in at such a reasonable hour and it might be nice to do the old-fashioned thing and read in bed next to his husband. The lights were off so he assumed that Steve had already gone to bed, but he stopped when a small light suddenly shone out in the darkness. A phone display.
"Steve?" Tony asked, wondering why he was sitting in the dark, a cold weight slowly falling in his stomach at what he could just about make out from the tiny screen on the other side of the room. Steve didn't respond, just stood up and marched to the bedroom, pushing the phone into Tony’s chest as he passed by.
Tony wrestled with it til he could see properly, and sure enough, there was a photograph of his very own penis. He couldn't remember when he'd sent a picture of that to anyone other than Steve in forever. But it was recent: a tiny tattoo of Steve's shield just visible in the top left corner of the picture. He'd probably sent it to some fan or... god knows. Clint? Fury? Most likely when Steve'd been away and he'd been drunk and lonely. And stupid.
He scrolled through, cringing at the half dozen other photos and sure enough, he looked drunk in all the ones where you could see his face. He went back through to the messages themselves to see the trail of people this had gone through and then his blood ran cold. He'd sent them to Johnny fucking Storm. And Johnny had then forwarded them to Steve, the traitor.
After a quick glug of bourbon and a deep breath, Tony walked to the bedroom.
-
Steve was laying in the dark, facing away from Tony when he entered the room and a very undignified twenty minutes were spent by Tony begging forgiveness to a silent and unmoving Steve. Eventually he gave up and went to sleep, waking with a start every time Steve shifted in bed. He probably got as little sleep as Tony did that night, and looked more tired than he ever looked when they both got up in the morning.
"Finish the new projections for my shield today." Steve said without looking at him, before leaving to go god knows where. Tony worked all day on schematics for the new shield that they'd talked about idly before but never gotten to work on. It was actually rather engaging work, and all the more rewarding because Tony had been told to do it and it might form some recompense for his transgressions.
When he went up, Steve was sitting in the same place he had been the night before, still scrolling through those photos, but not in the dark this time. He was drinking whiskey of all things, Tony's best stuff, just to be an ass, since Tony knew he didn't care for the taste and it'd have no effect either way. Tony threw up the plans on a holographic projection around Steve, and was relieved when he patiently listened to Tony's presentation, such as it was, and even pointed out a few ideas of his own for potential improvements to the design.
But then that was it. Steve strode to the bedroom, still not having looked at Tony, and that night they slept either sides of their miles-wide bed again.
The next day Steve bade Tony to work on improving the quinjet, so that's what he did all day, bringing the work up to Steve that evening and being ignored the rest of the night.
The third night, after having worked on improving Natasha's widow's bite, Tony finally snapped. Steve was walking towards the bedroom again and Tony let his exasperation go unchecked.
"C'mon Steve, I said I'm sorry ok!? What do you want from me? You want to hit me? You want to make me beg?"
Steve stopped and turned slowly, cold and clinical. "Why?"
"Why?!" Tony scoffed, "why what?! Why did I send those fucking pictures? I don't know, I was drunk?I was lonely? If you didn't fuck off to the ass-end of nowhere whenever some general bats his eyelashes, maybe I wouldn't get into this kind of shit!"
"So you're saying it's my fault." Steve sounded so fucking calm and controlled. "Yes! No. I mean. Kind of?!" Steve stepped forward into Tony's space. "You're pathetic," he said calmly, turning on his heel to the bedroom and leaving Tony even less sure of what he was meant to do than before.
"A cock cage," Tony declared, following Steve into the room. "A fucking chastity belt. God dammit Steve I haven't fucked anyone. And I wouldn't, either! Is this really so bad?" Tony knew he wasn't making much of a case for himself but just wanted... something to let him know Steve still gave at least a tiny bit of a shit about him. A curse, a slap, something thrown across the room. But Steve had grown ever more infuriatingly patient in the time they'd been together, and rarely tended to lose his rag so easily with Tony anymore.
Steve stopped moving again and stood still for a moment, thinking. Tony's jaw worked the air, waiting to see just what was to come next. Steve looked out of the window over the city. "You tell me, Tony. Is it so bad? Is it so bad that my husband goes around telling the world how little control he has over himself? How little control I have over him? How much you abuse my trust? Is it? Is it so bad?"
"Yes! Yes, Steve it is, and I'm.. I'm sorry. I just...” Tony trailed off. “I don't have any excuse. But please forgive me?"
Steve turned and looked at him with an unreadable expression before looking away again. Tony watched Steve pace around the room, wringing his hands. When he spoke again his voice was quiet. "When you got that tattoo..." The tattoo had been a gift to one another during an excellent weekend in Vegas. Steve had been reticent to go, but Tony had ensured the time they had was perfect. Tony declared he belonged to Steve right there in the tattoo shop. Steve had gotten one similar to Tony's of a gold and red heart, but it had healed itself away after a month or so. Tony’s had become a favourite landmark of his body for Steve though, and he always commented on it and kissed it, murmuring little possessive things.
Finally, Tony understood. That had been what had upset him so much, that mark, so much more permanent than any words he could say, private to all but Steve, put on display for whoever had been in Tony's phone book at the time. That was what hurt Steve. "Oh Steve, I'm so sorry." Tony said, quieter and defeated. But ever the engineer, he began coming up with possible solutions. "I'll get a new tattoo. You can tattoo my whole back! Or you can tattoo my..." Tony suddenly had second thoughts as he was speaking "...dick?"
Steve shook his head in gentle exasperation, "no, Tony. Don't be silly. Just. Don't ever do that again, ok? That's... that's for me. That's mine."
"I know, I know, Steve, I'm so sorry. I don't even... I don't even remember sending them."
"That doesn't really make it better, Tony," Steve said. Tony bit his lip, afraid to ask the next question, "what can I do to make it up to you?" And Steve gave the worst answer he ever could have given him. “I’ll think about it.”
-
A week later and life had returned to normal, or as normal as any of their lives were ever likely to get. And as normal as Tony’s life ever could be when he had the constant question of what Steve’s punishment would be, and when he’d be given it, rolling around in the back of his mind. He hoped it would be a good old fashioned surprise fuck, with Steve marching in and taking Tony over a bench in the workroom, but unless there was some high-octane mission soon, that wasn’t likely. No, Steve liked to plan these things out with the same precision he planned out everything he did. Whatever it was, the longer time dragged on, the bigger and more elaborate it would surely be.
They had sex in the interim: mind-numbingly vanilla sex that Tony couldn’t help but find boring and tedious, only really getting into it when Steve truly let go, three-quarters of the way finished, pounding into him for the last few minutes. But then he’d be back to sweet little caresses and cuddles, none of which Tony ever felt like he’d earned.
A camera appeared one day, and Steve cheerfully explained how he’d been planning on getting one back in the old days, finally cashing in some of the money stashed away from SHIELD (as if Tony wouldn’t have happily bought him ten of the things himself) to buy the top of the range today. It was a sturdy digital SLR camera, with all the bits and bobs a new hobbyist might need: tripod, extra lenses, even some lights. Tony was pleased; Steve was ever so cute when he got into a new hobby. First it had been making his own oil pastels, which was a messy but fun disaster. Later he’d decided to turn his hand to modelling miniature boats, but had grown tired of it and let Tony take over. Now it was apparently photography.
The dick-pics incident had largely been forgotten a month on. Steve seemed to have played out his anger by making Tony have boring sex, and their love life had picked up recently, Steve even bringing rope into the bedroom and tying Tony up with it. He took up another hobby: shibaru, painstakingly tying Tony up with silky ropes whilst following youtube tutorials on how to do it, til Tony was all trussed up like a leg of pork. Steve would just leave him there once he was done, and it was infuriating in the best way. He’d come back, whispering things about leaving Tony like all the time that so he couldn’t get into any trouble when Steve wasn’t there and then fucking him ruthlessly. Sometimes he left Tony’s cock untouched, other times he rigged up elaborate things to make Tony orgasm over and over again til he was coming dry and sobbing.
The other thing Steve had become enamoured with were the myriad ways of broadcasting via the internet. It reminded him of the radio plays he used to listen to, and the chatter over the radio during the war, less sanitised and edited than the TV shows everyone else seemed to love these days. More real. He played with Omegle and delighted in it, oblivious to the rather salacious nature of a lot of the people using it.
-
Really, it shouldn’t have been such a shock when Steve finally did it. Tony was embarrassed that he hadn’t figured it out before.
They'd been on a date, first of all, which Tony found rather quaint since it was something they rarely did anymore, coming home and being pressed against the side of the elevator for rough, possessive kisses. They were both half out of their clothes by the time they reached the bedroom and Steve practically threw Tony onto the bed before ripping his pants off and telling him with a pointed finger to stay put. Tony laid back and toed off his socks, waiting to see if perhaps his favourite flavour of Steve was finally back on the menu.
The first part was the camera, suddenly on a tripod next to the bed and connected via wires to a small laptop on the night stand. Tony was almost touched, if a little scandalised. “Really, Steve? You wanna make a little blue movie? I didn't know you had it in you.” Steve quirked an eyebrow and smirked at him before opening a laptop on the nightstand and plugging some wires into it.
Tony was content for Steve to call the shots, intrigued as to where this might be going. The silky ropes were brought out and Tony’s legs tied so they were bent at the knee, leaving him feeling deliciously exposed, even a little bashful what with the camera and all. Steve raked his eyes over Tony’s body and made him repeat their safeword as he tied his arms together over his head.
Steve flipped him over easily and slapped his ass a few dozen times til it felt warm and pink before bringing out a bottle of lube and slicking Tony up, sliding in rough fingers and stretching him out surely wider than he really needed to be. When he was satisfied, Steve stepped off the bed to check the camera, turning the viewfinder towards the bed so he could just turn and look rather than go over to see it.
But then, instead of getting back on the bed, Steve switched on the TV on the ceiling above Tony, which he’d apparently rigged up to show the images the camera was capturing - currently Tony’s crotch and his feet. He’d never seen himself from that angle and it was strange and thrilling. Steve was no dolt when it came to electronics but it was still something of an impressive feat to have rigged up such an arrangement on bespoke equipment without Tony's help. Tony felt a flush of pride at Steve's endless competence and the thought of him having planned all this out, whatever it was.
The screen above Tony showed Steve’s body move in and his cock line up, rubbing up and down and actually making a show of it before pushing inside. He felt like burning and the image of exactly what Steve could see as he claimed Tony’s body was mesmerising on the ceiling above him. Steve took his time pushing in, ‘til he was flush against Tony, the screen looking for all the world like any two anonymous bodies were it not for Tony’s tattoo. Steve didn’t go gently and soon pounded into Tony relentlessly, making him cry out. “Who does your ass belong to, Tony?” Steve asked quietly, their skin slapping together where they met. “You, Steve. My ass belongs to you.” Steve grunted in response, pushing at Tony’s knees so they fell further back to give him even better access. Tony’s cock went unnoticed, straining against nothing, jumping up and slapping back down against his belly as Steve fucked him.
Steve brushed a thumb over the tattoo, half covered with Tony’s body hair now but still bright and crisp beneath it. “Mine,” he said, sounding almost like a warning. “Of course, yours. Always, Steve.” Steve growled and surged up to bite at Tony’s mouth. He drew back to look deeply into Tony’s eyes. “I’m going to show everybody who you belong to. So you don’t forget again,” he promised, pulling out before leaning over to the nightstand to tap something on the laptop. The screen above Tony changed and was suddenly lower quality, the back of Steve’s knee between Tony’s spread legs looking a little choppier than it had moments before.
“What are you doing, Steve?” Tony asked, straining his neck to try to see what Steve was doing. “You need some help?”
“No, I think I have it figured out.” Steve replied, perhaps a little smugly. The screen shifted again and zoomed out, the video suddenly surrounded by...
“Steve! Are you fucking broadcasting this on the internet?!” One side of the screen was occupied by lines of text, a strip beneath the video of them appeared to have spaces for other video feeds, all of which were currently empty. “Steve! What the fucking fuck are you doing!?” Steve sat back so he was in between Tony’s legs once more and looked down at him with a sly smile, explaining simply, “showing the world who you belong to.”
“Are you out of your mind!?” Tony struggled with the rope tying his hands together but Steve was too much of a boyscout to ever make a mistake with his knots, especially after having become a bonafide expert over the past few weeks.
“Shh, no one can tell it’s you, it’s too zoomed in. Unless you sent them a picture of your cock, that is.”
Tony was speechless. “My... Steve! You... what?”
Steve grinned at him and looked insufferably smug. “I’m going to turn the audio on so they can hear the noises you make while I’m fucking you. Are you going to keep quiet or do you want me to gag you?”
“Won’t people recognise our voices?”
Steve shrugged and raised a brow. “Gag?”
Tony didn’t know what to say in response. This was insane. Had Steve actually learned up on all of this stuff just to create this elaborate payback? Or had it been serendipitous? Who the hell was watching all this anyway!? The text on the screen moved up whenever a new line was added, and one of the video feeds had filled with a person’s face, which watched them (or rather, Steve’s back) with a bored expression. “Get 2 the dicks” said one line of text that Tony managed to catch before it moved. Steve was still watching him with a thoughtful expression. He leaned down to kiss him quickly before grinning at him conspiratorially and pressing Tony’s underwear into his mouth loosely so he’d be able to spit it out easily enough.
Steve moved over and did something to the laptop before settling back to spread more lube on himself and Tony before lining himself up. The image on the screen was clear now, Steve’s beautiful cock nudging Tony’s hole. The chat sprang to life with comments about the size of Steve’s dick and the relative smallness of Tony’s, which Tony would have bristled at had Steve not driven into him and made him moan around the makeshift gag. When Tony opened his eyes again there was more text on the screen, more people talking, looking, watching them, watching him.
Steve grasped Tony’s cock in hand to stroke it into hardness as he fucked him, silent but for the slick sounds of him sliding in and out of him. Tony noticed a little box on one side of the screen that contained numbers that were steadily rising. 23 turned into 52 turned into 114 turned into 372. Steve must have been watching the laptop screen as he leant down and whispered into Tony’s ear. “Look at all those people watching me fuck your ass Tony.” He bit Tony’s neck casually before leaning back up and giving their audience the view they wanted again. Someone in the chat said “Hot ass!” and Tony felt a pang of possessiveness of his own. All those people looking at Steve’s perfect ass, that was his ass to look at!
Steve fucked Tony slowly, ever the showman. The screen yelled “FUCK HIM HARDER” but Steve didn’t see, his eyes focused on Tony prone beneath him. He jerked Tony’s cock fast and then slow, the changing rhythm not interrupting his own inexorable pace in and out. It was all calculated to drive Tony mad. If it hadn’t been for Steve’s thoughtful gag he’d have been swearing and promising hell to pay if he didn’t get on with things and fuck him already, but as it was he laid there, gagged into silence by the presence of strangers more than the gag itself.
The strangers kept multiplying, well past a thousand, the chat skimming past too quickly for much to be made out other than the odd missive about cocks and how good this was. Steve pushed at Tony’s legs to get a better angle purely for the camera’s sake so the sight of his cock sliding slowly into him was clearer. The distinction of who owned who more obvious than ever.
Time stopped having meaning once Steve brought him to the cusp of orgasm and then stilled, gripping the base of Tony’s cock for the third time. It might have been the fifth or the fiftieth time when he finally held onto Tony there, the veins in his dick standing out thickly under his skin as Steve started fucking him to his own home stretch, hard and fast and brutal, the video slots on the screen now filled with other people jerking off and the chat full of capital letters.
He slowed down to grin lazily and slap Tony a half dozen times before picking up and really going for it, grinding into Tony before coming hard, leaning over him and obscuring the view of their watchers to sob into Tony’s neck.
But he didn’t stop there, he stayed put and kept going, shallow and slow, riding out his own orgasm with no thought to Tony’s frustration.
Tony decided he couldn’t take it anymore, the cum making Steve’s push and pull slicker, so he spat the gag out and whispered “please,” Steve stopped moving and looked at him, a slow smile spreading over his face. “What was that?” He asked quietly. Tony gritted his teeth in frustration and rage. It was a great effort not to yell. “Please,” he said again quietly.
“You wanna come?” Steve asked. Tony was harder than he could ever remember. He nodded and whined as he turned his head away.
Steve slipped free and pushed Tony’s legs back further, the cum sliding out of Tony’s body after it. Steve scooped it up with a finger and daintily pushed most of it back in, using the rest of it to coat Tony’s cock and jerk it ‘til he came not twenty seconds later with a shout and then little sobs as Steve rubbed him through the aftershocks.
When he was satisfied, Steve leant back up and did something to the laptop and the screen above them went blank. Still tied up and drenched in cum and sweat, Tony was pulled into an embrace that he had no choice but to melt into. Steve’s hands roamed across his hot skin before reaching to tug at simple slipknots that let the ropes fall free. Stiff after being in such a position for so long (how long, he had no idea), Steve gently coaxed Tony’s legs straight and rubbed them before doing the same with his arms, pulling them down to his sides and soothing where the ropes had been.
“Who were those people? How did you?... God Steve I have so many questions.”
Steve chuckled and hugged Tony closer, brushing his fingers around the arc reactor and kissing his neck. “I like surprising you,” he said warmly. “You get this look on your face and it’s like you’re annoyed that I’ve got one over on you at the same time as being thrilled that I did something devious.”
“Well I don’t know about thrilled.”
“Shh” Steve wrapped a leg over Tony’s and held onto him tight like that was an end to it.