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"Look at me, Sam."
Sam's insides burn, then his face, flushes. He whines into Tony's neck, threads a hand into his hair and tugs, hard, until Tony moans a sound that shakes loose the hesitancy that lodged itself in Sam's chest somewhere between their conversation last night and the one they had just minutes before Tony wiggled himself between Sam's body and the bed's headboard.
Sam spreads his legs wider, grips the top of Tony's knees like a lifeline.
"Not what I asked for, but we're getting somewhere," Tony hums, pleased, then, like it's a treat for him to say rather than Sam to receive, "Good boy."
Tony noses along Sam's hairline, grinning as he presses a kiss to Sam's sweat damp skin, gentle on his temple in a way that makes Sam shudder. Makes his body ache and tingle and crave. A slavering need that his instincts knows Tony can't proved but still hungers for nonetheless.
Rather than wandering like how Sam assumed they would when he agreed to this whole thing, Tony's hands—callused and soft all at once, similar to the body attached to them, the voice whispering praises into Sam's ear—root themselves on Sam's stomach. One below his heaving chest, stroking under his pecs, the other just shy of Sam's navel. Tony's fingers are long, his pinkie reaching the band of Sam's underwear, teasing all the like as he lightly scratches at the strip of skin bared between Sam's clothes. He slips a finger under the waistband, relishes in the yelp of not-quite pain that escapes Sam's lips when he snaps it against heated flesh.
Tony smiles at the scent of oranges curling into the room, smug and delightful, cocky in a fashion that makes wet gather between Sam's legs. Has his pussy eager to remember just what Tony's hands can do. Fucking Tony.
"Tease," Sam grunts. He pulls at Tony's hair again, sighs a breathy sound when lips connect with his neck and a nimble tongue laps at the sweat rolling down his throat. Tony's scent spikes, along with the spice of his arousal, the dampness Sam feels pressing into his lower back as Tony sucks and bites, soothes with gentle stokes that turn lashing when Sam arches. "Tone…"
"I got you, baby boy. I got you." Sam can hear the smile in his voice, feel the way it curves along Tony's mouth like it's meant to be there when Sam's around.
Sam guesses that's what happens when you're past that point in your friendship where you can slip back into old college day habits as easily as the night it happened. And continued to happen. Well up until a blond haired, blue-eyed bombshell entered the mix and, suddenly, Sam's back to spending his free time with his hands and silicone.
Though, despite their decade long break of fooling around, Tony still seems to know just what Sam's body wants; reading his reactions and moans, the way Sam pants Tony's name like a plea, as easily as he reads his lab reports, the schematics and blueprints littered all throughout his lab.
Hands roam and lips connect soon after Tony coaxes another moan from Sam's lips, pulling forth a sound so filthy Tony chases it when his fingers, his tongue, the way he humps forward as if his pussy can't wait either. Avid to not wallow in negligence as Tony puts all his attention onto pushing Sam's sweatpants down his thighs and cupping over his cunt with giddy palms, feels just how wet Sam is from a few touches, the kisses along his neck.
Sam's clit jumps, his pussy, throbbing. He screws his eyes shut, feels shame shoot cold up his blood stream. "Tony—"
"Can't wait to get my mouth on you, baby," Tony rasps, the brown of his eyes darkening. His breath, stutters.
Excitement makes itself known, impatience glinting in his stare as he pulls down Sam's underwear with reflexes Sam forgets he has when he's not chasing after his intern. Sam is slow to react. Tries to close his legs to no anvil when Tony hauls them apart, smooths a hand between the dirty, soppy wet junction of Sam's thighs. A warm finger ghosts over his outer labia and Sam jolts, mortified.
"Tony!"
Arrogance isn't a foreign concept to one Tony E. Stark. He wears self-satisfaction like a second skin, prides himself in being better than anyone, and Sam can't even blame him for it. Because Tony is, and will always be, the smartest man in the room. But right now? Sam kinda wants to take all cocksure attitude and shove it down his throat. Fucking Tony.
Tony's smile turns sharp over Sam's shoulder. "Aw, c'mon, Birdie. Don't get shy on me now. I haven't even fucked you properly and you're already calling it quits?"
Humiliation crawls over Sam's skin, makes goose flesh pop up in its wake as he shakes his head, buries his face under Tony's jaw and whines, helpless in the face of his arousal. Tony only kisses his cheek, whispers a promise into the heat of his skin.
"Gonna make it so good for you, Sunshine. Gonna spread you open on my fingers, get you nice and loose for me."
Sam's pussy already weeps under Tony's fingers, dripping slick between his legs, onto the sheets. He's not even touching Sam yet. And Tony. Tony wants more, the greedy bastard.
"Remember that night in sophomore year? When you begged for it? Oh, Sammy. You were so pretty back then—even more gorgeous now." If Tony's voice could stop being so sexy, the rasp to his tone doing irreparable damage to Sam's insides, then that would be just peachy. "How about we do it again, huh? Make our pussies kiss over and over. Wanna feel your clit under mine, baby boy, wanna watch it move when I fuck you."
And, just like back then, when Tony had Sam in this exact position, legs open wide between his own, slipping two fingers into Sam's cunt and spreading his lips, exposing Sam and the way his hole clenches around nothing, his clit, begging, tracing his slit with reverence before he brings his fingers to Sam's mouth and bullies his way onto his tongue, Sam is pliant beneath him. He moans at the taste of himself, slurps over Tony's fingers and pulls them deeper until he reaches the last knuckle, swirling his tongue until spit rolls out the corner of his mouth.
"That's a good boy, Birdie," Tony praises, using his other hand to roll a pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Sam claws at the hand in his mouth and hauls it back between his thighs with a filthy roar, gets Tony prodding around his hole. Tony chuckles, nibbles at Sam's ear. "Dying for it, Sammy?"
Sam nods, settling into his embarrassment with a new found fervor, one that disregards the abashment and crafts him into something new entirely. Something beyond the shame he first felt when Tony proposed his little idea, beyond his arousal and the growing pressure of an orgasm just out of his reach.
"Touch me," Sam gasps, sucking down a lungful of air as if he just broke the surface of a pool. He guides Tony's fingers into his hole, moans a whoreish sound when he sinks in to the first knob on his finger. "Fuck me, please, Tony. Please, please."
"Oh, baby boy, you want it so bad, huh?" The words land just south of being mean, but Sam knows where it's going. Where it'll lead him. Tony pushes his finger in all the way, drags it out and brushes Sam's clit before diving back in. Sam howls before that same hand leaves him entirely, cups his jaw all vice-like and pussy slick, makes him look forward. This time, his words are hard, full of intent. "Though, maybe not as much as they do."
Sam's eyes flicker open, heavy lidded and blown wide when he remembers just why they're doing this. How Tony got him here with pretty words and filthy promises.
Steve and Bucky sit at the other side of the room, both of them motionless, both of them clutching the chair's armrests hard enough to splinter. Sky blue eyes skitter over Sam but lingers on Tony, the way his lips form a smile, how his hands knead Sam's chest, tweaks a nipple. There's an unmissable tent in Steve's pants and a strong, woodsy scent wafting all around him, intensifying when he bites his lip, blushes at the look Tony gives him. It intermingles with the burning oil bleeding from Bucky, makes the whole room smell like a mechanic shop nestled in a forest. Makes Sam zero in on the hand palming over Bucky's zipper, the dark, almost intimidating way he's staring at Sam like he wants to eat him alive. His vibranium hand trembles over the armrest, and when Sam makes eye contact with him, moans a breathy 'Bucky' that has anticipation stirring in his gut, the wood cracks.
Both alphas look like they're on the brink of something dangerous. Both Sam and Tony relish in the face it.
Tony's hold turns soft, caressing. He tilts Sam's chin up, his breath fanning over Sam's lips. "Let's give them something good, yeah, Birdie?"
Sam shoots another glance at the two of them, sees how Steve's shoulders shake, how Bucky unbuttons his jeans and slips a hand below his underwear. Sam's stomach swoops before his heart can speed up, then he's nodding, the air between Tony and him steady with a shared moan when mouths brush and hands roam. When fingers disappear in hair and between thighs.
They kiss and touch and call each other's name as if their boyfriends aren't in the room, as if they're back in their shared dorm, taking each other to bed for the first time with eager hands and raring mouths, making Sam's body remember how easily Tony got him to do it all those years ago. And how easy it is now to fall back into it.