Archive of Our Own

All is blissfully quiet.

Cocooned in warmth on a soft surface. He relishes in the ability to slowly wake up.

A rare opportunity.

No chattering of neighbours in various dialects. No squealing metal of a crowded city. No fits of coughing, no wails of pain—nothing.

Quiet.

Taking in a deep breath. Lungs fill completely with the luxury of peace, and empty into the sense of comfort.

He allows consciousness to lazily drift. Cataloguing this moment. To access when he needs to draw on depths of calm and control.

The instinctual side he’s come to live with, and knows will never be rid of—is silent too. Not interested. No danger.

The smell of something cooking swirls in his next breath. But the small ache in his stomach is not yet a priority. He exhales with a soft hum in his throat.

Stretching out lingering soreness, arms raised, toes pointed. Bones shift with spine cracking to release the last remnants of a different body. Muscles release with a breathy groan as the bed, or cloud, easily supports him. Cool sheets gentle on his sensitive skin.

Oh, what a lovely, amazing cloud.

Soft and firm in all the best ways. Allowing his body to be unhindered as it settles into itself. As Bruce Banner settles back into himself.

Just as he slowly flutters eyes open, his nose scrunches up at the now bitter scent. Jaw twitches as his hearing expands to the presence further away.

Mumbling turns panicked and quick, a clash of metal and soft curses follow.

Fully conscious now, he begins to move on autopilot. To go to where his help may be needed.

The rug he steps on, after literally crawling to the edge of the bed, is just as soft and plush as the clouded mattress. He glances around but doesn’t recognise the room of exuberant space and dark walls.

Bruce walks with heavy lidded eyes, following the source of curses out to a softly lit hallway and down some stairs. At the bottom, he blinks at the bright sunlight through a soft haze of smoke, following it around to the side.

“Bloody stupid, terrible design.” Is hissed as a hand flicks repetitively at the wrist.

Body jolts toward the source of the smoke, to remove the danger, turning a fob to snuff the flame.

“Shit, who put you on silent?” The man barely pauses in his pace across the kitchen, back still facing Bruce. “Apparently the people I pay don’t understand that steel conducts heat. I mean, who makes something you put above fire with a steel handle? Stupid people. That’s who. Or is it ‘whom’?” Hands move just as fast as his words, waving in the air, fingers twitching in quotation. “No, I’m sure it’s who. Who even uses ‘whom’ anymore, anyway?” He spins around to pace back, gritting teeth as wrist is gripped to stop any more movement. But halts in his step and blinks at Bruce. “Oh. Hello.”

The small spark of adrenaline shifts the slow moving sludge that is his mind, enough to understand the signs of pain in the man.

Smoke from fire. Hand in pain. Burn?

Bruce blinks down at the dangerous culprit—a steel pan. Tendrils of smoke curling up from it. Too hot to dispose of still. Searching above he flicks a switch for the range, creating a soft hum as it sucks the smoke and heat out.

A now muffled hiss of pain snaps his mind to full awareness.

Focus narrows on the motionless hand still gripped at the wrist, he steps closer to assesses the light red mark. Raising his own hand to hover under it. No sign of blistering soothes the tension in his shoulders.

First-degree burn. Surface damage only. No danger.

His lips twitch up as he looks into the eyes of Tony Stark. Big and brown and sparkling with energy. They dart back and forth between him, the ceiling, him, along the wall next to them, him.

“It’s who.” He answers. “A bit outdated, but you use whom for receiving action and who for performing action. Object vs subject.” He trails off in a mumble, looking around. “Put your hand under running water, I’ll help clean up. You need to stop thermal conduction from carrying heat into the dermis. Keep it cool for at least 15 minutes.”

He gets a salute and an, “Aye aye, Doctor.”

At the sound of splashing water, Bruce turns to the pan and touches the handle. Pleased at only warm metal and no sign of smoke he switches off the range fans and walks to the bin in the corner. Passing behind the man who twists his head to watch Bruce before jerking it around and blinking down at the sink.

He stares at the half burnt, lumpy, yellow substance. Nose instinctively sniffs it. Recoiling back he grunts. Definitely not safe to eat. He tips it upside down over the bin. Nothing moves. He hums, blinks in confusion, then with a huff he retrieves the spatula by the stove.

Having removed most of the stuck—omelette?—he turns to place it in the other sink next to Tony, who tenses and shifts his weight between his feet.

Lips pursed, shoulders drop as Bruce moves away in a despondent haze. Losing himself to the sludge and reprimanding thoughts as he cleans.

He’s terrified of you now, Banner. Has seen your hideous rage. Keep your distance and just clean up the mess. It’s the least you can do for him.

“Oh hey, you actually are a medical doctor, too, aren’t you? Or have you been practising around the world unqualified?” The water shuts off. The sudden change in noise snaps some awareness back into him.

Bruce puts down the gathered items on the counter by the sink and rubs his eyes, stares at the pan then the tap that’s turned to Tony’s side. Moving slowly forward and gingerly across, he turns the spout and flicks the handle so it can soak.

“Do I repulse you or something?” A finger pokes the arm held awkwardly in front of Tony.

“What?” He jerks back upright and looks at him with wide eyes. He is distracted by the ring of gold around the pupil, before he realises how close he is and clears his throat. Stepping a bit to the side. “No, of course not.” His brows furrow and he tries to impart the honesty in his voice. Why would he think that?

A soft hum before he feels a firm hand on his shoulder. He drops it and flinches out of the way with a sharp gasp.

“See, that. What is that? Do you not like touching me or is it an everyone thing? Hey, alright if you do, I have things too. But I gotta say, you’re giving me mixed signals moving around like that.”

He swallows and eyes Tony’s hand still raised in the air. A pulse of desire shoots through him from the brief contact. He bites his lip to stop any thoughts and turns his head away.

Remove danger. Help others. Find food. Then sleep. That’s all you need, Banner. All you ever need.

A sudden gurgle brings his mind back. He stretches to cut off the water, then shuffles back, desperate to remain a safe distance away and change the subject. “I never finished my residency..formally. So it wasn’t technically legal, but I couldn’t just ignore people in need if I could help them. They didn’t have any alternatives.” Bruce shrugs, it’s not the worse thing he’s done. Besides, if he has the ability to help, why shouldn’t he?

“Uh huh. JARVIS, add ‘Saint’ to the vast list of credentials Dr. Banner here has.” Tony waves a hand out to Bruce and smirks at him, eyebrow raised. “Confirm that MD in your records, and how many PhD’s was it?”

“7, sir. Though, I must clarify. ‘Saint’ is derived from virtuous traits, a designated title based on moral judgement. Not a credential.” A voice heralds from speakers all around them. In a British accent, the comment comes off a bit snooty.

Smirk falls and eyes roll at Bruce as he mouths ‘unbelievable’. “Don’t give me smack about it, just do it.” 

“As you wish, sir. Are there any other words you’d like me to change the meaning of in my database? Or shall I change Webster, entirely?”

“What did I say, J?” Tony glares at the wall. “You’re just showing off, aren’t you?” He looks back at Bruce and shakes his head. “I’ll introduce you later. Your punishment for such insolence.”

An amused smile curls Bruce’s lips at the banter between Artificial Intelligence and programmer. As heat spreads across his cheeks, he ducks his head. Looking up through his lashes, squinting at the man. He tries to secretly read him, the intention behind his words. 

He’s just making fun of you, Banner. Many of your colleagues would ask why you needed so many qualifications, yet still couldn’t produce anything of substance. And as if ‘Saint’ would be a judgement any would pass based off your traits and actions in this world.

“Nice try, hot stuff. But I am an expert at distraction.” Intense gaze pierces into him, hitching his breath in his chest. “Before this goes further, I’ve been working on the whole ‘communication’ thing. I need to know if me touching you is a no-no.” Tony dances his fingers in the air toward him. “If you haven’t noticed yet—which I wouldn’t blame you. The whole alien invasion led by the God of Reindeer’s, didn’t give much time in the way of general observation and getting to know mannerisms—I am a very tactile person. And, so I have been repetitively told, honesty is needed when communicating..or something like that. I’m finding it difficult to care.” His eyes crawl down and back up, pupils dilating, the gold around them now hidden. “In the name of honesty, if you don’t want me to touch you, I regret to request that you put clothes on.”

Widening eyes he looks down at his very bare self then up to the man. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Both perfectly shaped eyebrows raise as a grin stretches the trimmed goatee of his beard.

“I—I didn’t notice.” He grimaces, rubbing hand along his stubble roughened cheek, willing the heat there to dissipate.

“Yo—how could—no, you know what, I guess that makes sense. What with the whole ripping clothes whenever the Big and the Furious comes out to play.” A sage nod. “And, just to make sure you understand me correctly."  Hands up, palms facing out, one turns to point thumb back at himself. "I do not want you to put clothes on. I am loving the view." Other hand waves up and down Bruce. "The view moving around and coming close to me. Love it. I just spent those last several minutes incredibly wisely. Truly exquisite plans have been made. The view can stay. As long as you like." Palms face Bruce again. "But if touching is a thing I cannot do, then unjustly, the view will need to be covered. For control and sanity sake, you understand?” 

Slowly, lips tilt in a tight half-smile. And there it is. “You don’t need to placate me.” He’s not totally surprised that it took Tony actually experiencing the ‘enormous green rage monster’ before this started.

A blink back from a now blank face. “What?” Hands fall to the side.

Sighing, he glances away. “I don’t have any clothes with me. As you pointed out, the—the Other Guy, has left me many times with no dignity. I’ve, let’s say, accepted this. Probably gotten a little too used to it. I apologise. You don’t need to pretend, or lie, I know it—I—.” His lips fall down. “As for the, thing, how I react, my wants are not—It’s not my comfort that’s a concern.” Soft sigh. “It’s okay, Mr. Stark. I understand.”

It hurts a bit more that it’s Tony behaving like this. He has accepted his lot in life. How people are going to respond and behave around him. But. He had actually felt a momentary sense of warmth during their time in the helicarrier lab. An instant connection, a growing understanding of who they each really were. With how at ease Tony acted around him. What he said.

Bruce shakes his head. Stupid, Banner. The Other Guy doesn’t ‘save’, anything. People quickly learn the truth. A familiar weight settles on his shoulders. You were foolish to think Tony Stark would, what, be your friend? Deep sigh, he feels heavy resignation as he looks at another dream destroyed and tries to smile at him. Monsters don't have friends. Just people scared of them. Not wanting to make them angry.

Tony slowly furrows dark eyebrows as eyes dart around the room and then all along Bruce’s body before holding his own.

Pink lips thin. “Right.” A slow nod with a dawning lightness enters Tony’s eyes, the gold swirling back. “Okay, then. That’s settled.”

Nodding back, he tries to smother any disappointment. An ache he has not acknowledged for many years pierces his chest but he swallows it down.

Another ache he is very much use to grips his attention instead. The situation has calmed, no danger, no help needed. “Is there anything else to eat? I really need something. Anything.”

“Yea, I figured. Hence my attempt. Though JARVIS was bitching that the pancake batter wasn’t right even before the faulty equipment came into play, so perhaps a blessing in disguise.” He laughs and scratches along the fine edge of his beard on his jaw. Pancake? Bruce eyes the bin, worried the remnants will melt a hole through the metal. “You missed it, but the team agreed to eat at a Shawarma joint. I assumed you pre-gaming wouldn’t impact your appetite much. Mi casa es su casa.” His arms spread wide. “Raid the kitchen while I scrounge up some clothes for you. They rudely won’t accept naked customers. Even if we did just save their establishment.”

Humming as limited focus shifts, he moves to the large, silver fridge and barely notices Tony leaving.

Fumbling through the cool shelves, everything is halfheartedly sniffed before  quickly chewed and swallowed. Cheese, a little funky but okay. Apples,  not that one too far gone, the other one is lovely and juicy. Oh, what’s this, hand reaches for the alluring smell. A half eaten brownie. With macadamia nuts. He moans happily around the sweet chocolate and buttery crunch. So good. He’s never been this lucky when finding food after an incident.

When mind slowly begins to clear enough to notice the presence behind him, he glances over his shoulder. Still chewing a mouthful of spinach leaves.

Tony leans against the wide archway with a smirk and dark eyes. He holds out a pile of black cloth to him in one hand and dangles shoes off fingers.

Lopsided, sheepish grin is his acknowledgement to his strange behaviour. Freak. He swallows and walks over to him.

Pulling on the jeans and shirt, stepping in joggers, he squints down to put all the buttons in their respective holes then bends down to tie up the laces of the slightly too big shoes.

A grunt brings his eyes up with a questioning raise of an eyebrow.

“I miss it already. Though the tight shirt and—don’t move,” Tony pauses and walks around behind him. A groan. “I knew the jeans were a great choice. Come on, before we never leave. I’ll let Pepper know a week of no work is required, at minimum.”

“What?” He mumbles, straightening up, back meeting hand. He arches and shuffles out of its way, but pressure quickly returns and urges him forward. He cranes his head to look at Tony with wide eyes.

He’s intentionally touching him. 

His mind is singularly focused on that spot as he blinks and tries to control his deepening breath.

“Or a month. We may need a month.” Eyes crawl down and up his body, then head shakes side to side. “Also, the room you woke up in? Full wardrobe with all my out of season attire and shit I rarely wear. Take whatever you want. But, I must insist, clothing is optional.”

Tony drops his hand and enters an elevator. Leaning back against the mirrored walls and looks at Bruce with narrow eyes.

Bruce follows and faces the closing metal doors. A mix of relief and disappointment prickle along his skin as the spot at his back cools. Conflicting emotions are reflected back to him in the form of a tightly vulnerable, confused and pained face. One he has seen and felt many times.

Breathe, Banner.

Dismissing it as best he can, he sighs as gaze moves up and see's a convex deformation bulging the elevator doors. A soft grunt and slight disgruntled feeling makes his brow furrow. He then widens his eyes and looks behind him. "Did-"

Doors open and the heat and pressure return. He stumbles forward and softly gasps. 

Breathe and walk, Banner.

“Everyone else should be there already. We weren’t sure how long you’d be out as a newly returned Little Pink...No, no, that doesn’t really sound right, does it? Though your skin was quite a vibrant shade of pink after you shrunk down. Regular Pinkie?” Tony’s hand taps and swirls fingers up his back. They exit the large glass doors onto the street. Hand slides and nudges his side to walk to the left.

Shivering, Bruce sighs deeply. Get a hold of yourself. He forces himself to relax.

“Whatever. Good to see your gorgeous tan has returned. And no tan lines. Who knew The Doctor Bruce Banner was such an avid sun-bather. This is important. Did you go to nudist beaches to achieve this?”

Deliberating, he purses his lips. “Well, yes, I suppose. Quite a few years ago, now. All across the South American coast. It was actually a great way to hide in plain site.” He shrugs, keeping his eyes on the man next to him.

Tony barks out a laugh, hand regrettably leaving as it moves to clap with the other. “The prudish military would never, oh, that’s genius. Scandalous, Brucie.” He grins to the side at him.

Praised for his ability to evade capture is not something he’s heard before. A touch of wonder curls his lips and warms him enough to help ignore the cooled spot on his back.

"I guess I have been in majority arid and desert regions, too. After an incident, I usually wake up with sun blazing as my skin rapidly repairs. Hence the pink. Ionising radiation can do that to a body. Every time I return from being the Other Guy, I experience hyperemia—blood flushes to the surface, and the sun would stain it, I guess. Every nerve ending is hypersensitive from undergoing rapid desquamation from the sheer metabolic stress of the transformation. S’why I need to get as much calories into me as soon as possible." He ends with a small grimace, rubbing his stomach already beginning to ache again.

"Oh, yea. Keep talking dirty to me, your smart brain is so hot." Tony looks at him with heated, half-lidded eyes.

Bruce softly scoffs, shaking his head. 

They soon come upon a small building with broken windows. Through which, three blonde men and a red-headed woman sit around a table. 

All eyes turn to them, soft conversation stopping as they watch the two brunette’s step through the scuffed and dented, but intact, door.

Bruce hesitantly enters behind Tony with slow, soft steps. Not sure of his welcome and not wanting much attention. He carefully pushes the door closed behind them, then ducks his head and hunches his shoulders to shrink himself down. Twisting his hands around to stroke each other. The repetitive motion soothing his nerves.

Gratefully, Tony strides in front of him with wide arms. “Shawarm—Hey! Where's the food? I told you to order the entire menu and tell the cooks to ignore any and all other customers. Thor, I thought you understood the assignment I gave you?"

“Aye, Man of Iron! The feast shall be upon us in the most haste!” The long-haired blonde grins in greeting. His armour splattered with alien blood.

"I'm not mad. But Cap, know I am disappointed in you." He clicks and points across the table. "I'll go talk to the hostess. If they think that the city being invaded and them being one of three places lucky enough to still be operational is a good enough excuse for slow—oh, hold up, I know what the issue is." He turns on his feet and walks off.

Steve sends a shiny grin at Tony before it tightens and falls as the man moves away. “Stark, good of you to show up.” He is the only one with hair still perfectly placed, though his face and bright suit is greyed with dust. Bright blue eyes flick to the revealed Bruce. “Dr. Banner. Glad to see you back with us.”

He falls into the seat at the other end of the table, darting his eyes along the glass and stone-dust covered floor, mind instantly measuring the distance, number and movements of the workers. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Don’t worry about it, Doc.” Her voice is soft and hoarse. “We had to secure Loki and the Tesseract before this. Two incidents so close together, I’m surprised you’re awake.”

Swallowing thickly, it is disconcerting that an organisation would know of his vulnerabilities. He suppresses a shudder and the memories on how an army does.

Not hearing any judgement or fear in her voice, he allows his eyes to move up to her face. Immediately fixating on the bruise on her forehead and cut lip. Deep breath in, stay in the present. “Are you okay?”

A too still body wrapped in a skin-tight, black bodysuit breathes and looks at him with dull green eyes. Then simply, “I’ll be fine.”

His eyes quickly drop away. Right.

The other man Bruce remembers seeing with the group when he pulled up on the bike, stretches his leg out to rest on Natasha’s chair. Black and purple armoured vest shifts awkwardly around exposed arms as he leans his torso toward her to accommodate his leg behind her. “She’s had worse. Hell, she’s given me worse. Not even a few hours ago, I might add. I think I have a concussion, Nat. Did you really have to hit me twice?” He whines with a pout.

She twitches a small smile and jerks a shoulder.

Eyes dart from inspecting the short blonde’s head next to him, to the other side of the restaurant at the sound of a familiar title.

“Tajir al-Mawt.”

Tony’s back is to them, voice hushed as he speaks to the worker in front of the counter. She is staring at him with wide eyes and clutching a broom to her chest as she mutters in disjointed English mixed with fast and soft Arabic.

Bruce focuses his attention and hearing to listen to what they are saying. Mind slowly translating some of her words from his time in Yemen.  

“Keep the food coming, this should cover it. I’ve got a very special man to feed.”

“It you. Death. You came - village - - missiles - saved - brother - . Sir. You are - metal hero.” She jerks her head to the other’s in the kitchen, gesturing to one of the men. “He, look. Look. You - saved - brother. Brother.” Bruce studies the man as he cooks, unbothered by the heat of the stove and the words behind him. Focus entirely on cooking the meat and pita.

“Oh, you saw that? Your brother saw it? Yep, it’s me. Iron Man. Missile carrier today, and whatever heroic deed is needed tomorrow. But really, as much as I hate to admit it, it was a team effort today. That’s them.” Tony points a thumb back at them.

She shakes her head, hands tight around the broom. “No, no no. - -. Please, sir. - city. Not today - - village. You.” She stops, sighing harshly. Lips pursed, she bows her head. “Thank you.” Spoken slow and clear.

“Okay. Here just take the money. I won’t accept you refusing payment even if we did save the city. You may have gotten lucky compared to other establishments but you definitely can’t be giving anything away for free. That’s just bad business. Especially since we are about to deplete your stocks significantly.” Tony then places something on the counter and spins on his heels.

The woman sighs again, shoulder’s falling then speaks towards the kitchen, a second man shaving meat off the vertical spit and chucking it on the stove for her brother nods at her and mutters something back. But Bruce doesn’t catch what they say as Tony comes closer with a tight face and small frown.     

“Alright, the bill is taken care of.” He sits in the remaining chair next to Bruce. “No, no. Please. Of course I’ll cover it.” He leans back with crossed, bulging arms, hands tight and curled. 

“They did mention this ‘Bill’ but I was not sure of whom they spoke. I told them he was not involved in the fight and not invited.” He bangs a hand on the table, jerking it up on Bruce’s side who shrinks back into his chair at the move. “Apologies.” Thor then quickly settles and shifts eyes out the broken, glass-less window with a softening smile.

“I didn't bring my wallet.” Steve rubs the back of his head and bashfully smiles with closed eyes.

Tony waves a hand at him. "Whatever, Captain Tight-pants. I'll just include it in my invoice to S.H.I.E.L.D." He then looks to Bruce with wide eyes. “Was that correct usage of ‘whom’?”

Bruce huffs and smiles, nodding at the now grinning man, glad to see his other expression gone.

He then shuffles to the side to give space to the two male workers as they begin bringing out plates, sitting half off the chair to do so. Eyes averted again, he notes that the other government agent's stretched out leg has a tear along the inside thigh, but no blood that he can see on the black pants.

“Umm..I never got your name, I’m sorry.” He can assume, especially from the connection to Natasha. But it’s more to get his attention.

“Huh?” Blue eyes blink to him, hand reaching to snag a plastic plate. Bruce quickly tries to assess them. “Barton. Clint Barton.” They flash too quickly for him to catch the emotion before settling into an exhausted calm. But the easy answer settles him enough. “Guess there wasn’t much time for introductions before that big beast showed up, huh?”

His body flinches, face crumpling as he hangs his head down to stare at the floor. Right. Remember your place here, Banner. You’re not a doctor. You’re a monster.

“Hey!”

Shocked at the quick shout, he flicks his eyes up to Tony’s face scowling across the table, finger pointed.

“We’d all be screwed if Hulk didn’t show up. Don’t talk about him like that.”

“What? I meant the big alien fucker Hulk punched square in the face. Best first impression ever, I gotta say, Doc.” Clint lightly chuckles as an arm nudges into Bruce’s gently.

Arm tenses where it was touched, he barely notices jerking it out of Clint’s way as his lips part and eyes widen. The Other Guy made a good impression?

“Brought that thing down with a single punch. All, ‘I’m always angry’ then the Green Machine rips through and SMASH! Flipped that beast ass over tits. So cool.” Clint's arms clench, muscles flexing then jabs one across the table in demonstration. Grins at Bruce, frowns and moves a paper cup in front of him. "Here, Doc. You look like you need some water."

“Agreed! A mighty warrior! I am grateful to have fought by his side. And if not for Hulk, the Man of Iron may not be amongst us.” Thor speaks with mouth full of food. “Though I am sure,” he drinks from another large cup, twitches arm and then sets it slowly back down. “I would have arrived in time if he did not get there first. But I did not notice you falling as quickly as he did.” He claps a hand on Tony’s shoulder next to him and takes another large bite from his other hand.

Grateful for, fighting with—wait, falling? Wide gaze shoots to Tony. “What?” Throat tight making voice rough.

He receives a blink, lips pulling up in a smirk. “You don’t remember? No hard feelings, I was unconscious and can’t either. JARVIS got footage though. Hulk caught me before I became the Iron Pancake.” He flutters his eyes at him and leans closer, dropping voice low. “My hero.”

“He did?” He can’t help but whisper in disbelief.

“Yep.” Is popped back.

Floored, confusion rolls through him. Making him dizzy as it drains the last dregs of energy he was able to replenish. He is literally too tired to analyse all that right now.

The sludge creeps and dulls him.

He slowly blinks as wrapped meat suddenly appears in front of his face. The smell causes his nose to flare, mouth open and moving to bite before his hands even raise to grab it.

A soft, amused snort is the last noise they make as the sound of rocks being swept and sizzling meat settle in the background. It’s soothingly familiar.

When Bruce feels awareness slowly return to him, he continues to alleviate the sludge by robotically moving food to his mouth. Though he is actually starting to feel full. What a strange day.

He subtly takes in the unlikely group of people sat around him.  

Two assassins are staring at each other, slowly chewing on a bite it seems they started a while ago. A super soldier is propped up on a gloved fist, face relaxed in sleep, his mouth open with a piece of meat hanging out the side. The alien grins around at them all as he matches Bruce’s eating pace and quantity—going by the stack of empty plates and wrappers—though his attention continually drifts outside.

And the mechanical genius. 

Bruce’s eyes rest on him the longest. Drinking the sight of him in.

It is still so surreal. Not only has he met The Tony Stark, but got to work with and actually talk to the man. He has heard of him, of course. His mind, his brilliance, the vast advancements in tech. Since high school, he’s known of Tony Stark’s work.

His mouth, rarely motionless, now stilled with cheek bulged on one side. A squint crinkles his eyes as he leans back, fingers tapping sporadically on the chairs’ metal frame. Mind not completely present. But he is solid and real in front of Bruce.

Slow blinking eyes rest on the shirt covered chest. A low thrum in his mind causes him to furrow his brow. There’s something wrong.

The tapping stops, hand moving to scratch chest, shifting shirt for a hard, circular edge to be seen.

The thrum rings again, resonating through his mind like a finger around a wine glass.

Tony wore the same shirt when they worked in the lab on the helicarrier, blue light easily shone through. So where’s the light?

Frowning, he swallows the last bite and licks his lips. Tasting garlicky sauce,  he clumsily fists a paper napkin to wipe his face without moving his gaze.

His fingers twitch, wanting to feel the soft fabric and hard metal underneath. Assure its functioning correctly. Tony seems fine, is there something else covering it?

Hand raises and moves closer. Wanting to feel. To touch.

Is it hot or cold? Is there movement, vibration? from the pure, revolutionary power source?

A burst of horrified clarity stops the movement, he flinches back, arm jerking to his chest. Momentum enough to scratch his chair on the ground.

The sound triggers everyone to move.

Natasha’s hands shoot to her waist. Steve is instantly on his feet and completely awake. Clint has both feet placed flat on the ground and is suddenly gripping an arrow. Thor’s fist clenches his now raised hammer with a loud ring that sharpens the one in Bruce’s mind to a murmur. The female worker steps further away from them all, gasping and clutching broom again. Tony just smirks at Bruce and stretches his arms above himself, triceps flexing. Bruce grimaces in apology and shrinks into his chair, trying to quiet the murmur. No danger.

Steve relaxes his posture with a sigh. “I suppose we should call it a day, team.” The Captains words get everyone to begin standing with him, at ease once more. “Thank you again for the meal! We really appreciate your generous hospitality.” He calls out with a wave to the workers.  

Bruce is the first to reach the door since he’s the closest and steps back to hold it open for everyone. Head low he watches as Steve marches ahead, eyes set straight as he jerks a nod at him.

His focus narrows to Clint as he steps closer with softly curled lips and amused glint to his blue eyes. No limp, no swaying, pupils reacting well to the sunlight. He seems okay.

Green eyes stare him down, catching his inspection. He shrinks himself further, dropping head and eyes to the floor as Natasha walks on light feet behind the archer.

He hears heavy stomping come closer and raises his head back up just as a large hand comes close to his face. He gasps and flinches away, bracing for the hit he knows he deserves. Mind flashes into the past and ripples his anger. Tightly closed eyes shoot open when it lands on his shoulder in a firm pat. Blue eyes stare down at him, a bright grin falling with pinched blonde brows. “Gentle Scholar, I mean you no harm. No matter the form you take.” He releases his shoulder then steps outside. Bruce blinking at his red-caped back.

Tony is the last to move toward the door and calls out to the workers. “Stark Industries will be in touch to assist with the repairs. Expect a future investor, Shawarma is great, more people need to know about this.”

Bruce see’s the woman furrow her brow and the two men not react at all. He takes a deep breath, mind after food allowing him to use it a bit more. The dialect she spoke is not one he is overly familiar with, but the formal Yemeni Arabic is usually understood across most. “Stark uh Company, will contact you for the repairs. Help with uh,” He gestures around the floor and at the windows. “You will see him as an investor. He wishes for more people to taste the Shawarma. To share it with them.” He smiles hesitantly at her, which then widens as she smiles back at him.

She nods to them both, “Thank you.” And walks around the counter to her brother, bringing hands up to embrace him. 

He then looks to Tony and finds dark eyes intent on him. His smile shrinks again as eyes rake down then back up to hold his own. Pink lips twitch into a soft smirk as the man stalks toward him. “That list just keeps growing, and such a gentleman.” His nasal twang punches through the deep baritone. Arm raises slowly, hand placed on the door next to Bruce’s head, taking the weight and consuming the space around him. He leans in close. Arm flexing. Voice turning to gravel. “After you, it’s a thing with me. First to enter, last to exit.”

Swallowing, he numbly nods, forcing eyes away from the tight, bulging shirt sleeve, then shuffles out onto the street. Moving off to the side from everyone else stood on the road.

Which way this time, Banner? India is out. Stick to the plan and go to Cambodia? Or catch a boat to the Isles and keep moving south?

He stumbles, energy waning. Oh right. He needs to sleep first. Foot knocks a rock skipping into a large hole. Bed? He frowns, shaking his head and turns to actually look around when Thor’s booming voice distracts him.

“Valiant Warriors, the dust has settled and the skies of Midgard are clear once more! My heart now pulls me toward the horizon where the lovely Jane awaits my return. I shall see you all in three rises of the Sun to celebrate. Before I take my leave and journey homeward with my brother to the Allfather’s golden halls!” He begins to swing his hammer in a tight circle by his side with a low electric hum, pace and pitch increasing as he continues. “Let us soon drink deep in victory and regale one another with tales that shall echo for the ages!” With that, he shoots off into the air with a thunderous clap.

They all stare and silently commiserate in amusement at Thor’s dramatic departure. Tony catches Bruce's eyes and rolls his at him. 

“Anyway." Tony stands next to Bruce and faces the others, arm grazing his so he steps to the side. "Meet up in a few days, then?  You’re all welcome at the now ‘A’ Tower. Such a literal blow to the ego. If any of you need a place to crash, that is. Anytime. Just three house rules,“ he holds up three fingers and curls one down after each point, “no show tunes, no criticisms over the potential lack of privacy with an AI watching your every move—” He ends with his middle finger pointed at a now carefully blank-faced assassin. “and no psychoanalysing people’s quirks. I’m looking at you, Red. Capisci? Judge free zone.” 

Bruce gulps, his quads engage and right calf twitches at the sight. He darts eyes between her and Tony, not sure if he’s going to move closer or away.

Clint laughs and claps Tony on the shoulder. “Careful there, Nat can and will remove appendages in your sleep, Stark. We gotta do some paperwork and check in with the boss. But will keep the offer in mind, if they ever give us time off.” He sighs deep and wistful.

Steve looks down the street and crosses his arms. “I’ve actually got some places that I need to check on. I’ll see you all in a few days to finish the job.” He turns his gaze to Tony, flicks them to Bruce then back to Tony. “I appreciate the offer, Stark. Rest up. We all deserve it.”

“We’ll walk with you, Captain.” Natasha almost demands.

Steve nods with a small smile, arms dropping to his sides.

She then turns a slow, thin-lipped smile to Tony, who pokes his tongue at her, before a surprisingly gentle gaze settles on Bruce. “Doctor.” Then she simply saunters off.

Steve and Clint follow her with a singular nod to them and a quick, “Pizza better be included, Stark!”

Blinking, he watches the two government agents and a superhero from the 70’s walk off as he stands next to a multi-billionaire and—not for the first time in his life—wonders how he got here.

Noticing the smashed side of a building the three walk pass. A hollow chill settles in his chest as he looks at the destruction around them. At the uncharacteristic silence of the city. Lips turn down at cars crumpled, flipped and scorched black. At damaged buildings, entire floors destroyed. At the street they stand on, chunks of road ripped up and cratered. Gravel, bricks and glass covering it all.

They obviously stopped the invasion. Stopped Loki. But at what cost? A doll near a large concrete block catches his sweeping gaze. What was lost?

And what did he—did the Other Guy—do?

Even if he was apparently a ‘fierce warrior’. And though he is glad to know he was right in unleashing the Other Guy on that huge flying alien. He is not delusional. He knows he can’t control, can’t direct, that rage, once it’s set loose.

He sighs deeply. Move on, Banner. There’s nothing you can do. To stop that ever present, rage-fuelled ‘beast’. At least this time it was for a good reason.

His anger was actually used for good.

It doesn’t cancel out the bad. But it is new.

That kind man who gave him clothes and lent him his bike. His words were all Bruce could think about as he rode towards the city with a massive hole in the sky. To the place he could do the most harm, but also the most good. Like everyone. Huh. It’s silly how simple that sounds. But it gave him the courage to let the Other Guy out without fighting him.

As ‘Danger-Alien-Danger-Death’ tried to consume his senses. He let it. Accepted and welcomed the feeling of stretching, rippling muscles as mind constricted on his anger.

The last thing he saw was a group of people actually asking for the Other Guy to be let out. The biggest creature he had ever seen flying straight toward them, destroying an entire street of a massively populated city. And Iron Man, with a large, teeth-riddled mouth trying to kill him.

A weight suddenly drapes across his shoulders, bringing him back to the present. A solid, warm arm easily moves with his body to maintain the wondrous touch. “Just you and me, Bruce.” Is murmured hotly into his ear, causing a blush to prickle his cheeks. Arm tightens, pulling him around to begin walking.

Softly gasping, he shivers at the sensations of this intentional, firm touch. “I—“ Voice cracks so he clears his throat. “I guess so. Thanks. I’ll be out of your way soon, Mr. Stark.”

“What? Noo! Don’t leave!” Tony whines. More weight is slumped into him. He sways to the side, then adjusts and keeps them moving straight. Hand twitching up to help stabilise Tony before tensing and forced to remain at his side. Don’t touch. “Why would you go anywhere? Plans have been made, have I not made that abundantly clear? I obviously need to step up my game.” Tony straightens up and squeezes Bruce’s shoulder. “We gotta do all the three S’s. You can’t leave until then at the very least.”

Bruce grimaces. No matter what the man says, he has to keep moving. Tony will come to realise the truth, will grow tired of him. See the truth of him despite the Other Guy. Bruce is not a good man. Danger has and will always find him. He sighs and brings his hands together to stroke and soothe.

Tony stops them both, his hand moves to his other shoulder and spins him to the side. Both hands now grip his shoulders as firm as the brown that consumes his vision. “Banner, listen to me. You are welcome here. Always. Stay. Or, or come back. Anytime. But, trust me, I want you here—you are not in the way.”

The small height difference is just enough for him to easily drop his gaze to a lean jaw instead. “Mr. Stark,” he begins to mumble, taking a deep breath to try to get his mind to form a response in the face of such intensity.

“No, don’t say anything. We have a few days, anyway. Stay until we finish the job.” Tony half pleads, half demands.

He nods once in answer, mouth set in grim smile. Finish the job? What’s left for him to do? You should be leaving already, Banner. While S.H.I.E.L.D and everyone are still distracted.

And, yet..

Calloused hands trail down his arms and touch skin before Tony spins on his feet and walks off.

Bruce shivers, gently strokes down the now goose-bumped flesh. He shakes his head. Tony wasn’t kidding, he is very touchy. With apparently anyone, no matter who or what they are.

Enjoy it while it lasts, Banner.

He follows, trudging behind him, sludge-mind rolling and shrinking his focus. He has replenished the caloric cost, but sleeping—ideally for the next 12 hours—is required to recover the energy used up.

His eyes rest on the figure walking in front of him, gaze drawn to wide shoulders, transfixed by the lats and scapulae shifting underneath cloth with every step. Down to the tight, enticing glutes. Eyelids droop half-closed and he runs his tongue along his lips.

He hums softly. He has some energy after eating.  

Shaking his head again, he turns to imagining the soft, warm cocoon he awoke in. Sleep, Banner. That’s what you need. Get a hold of yourself.

As they enter the Tower’s large and sleek foyer, Tony turns around to face him and walks backwards. Pointing a finger at him, “Hey, be-tee-dubs, you know you can call me Tony, Big Guy. No need for that Mr. Stark crap.”

“Big Guy?”

“Uh yea, that may typically apply to Hulk, but I just witnessed you go toe to toe with an Alien-God on the eating scale.” He grins cheekily as the elevator doors close behind Bruce.

Heat prickling his cheeks again, he ducks his head and strokes his satiated stomach. He has not been able to eat an adequate amount in a while, especially not after an incident. Today has been full of luxuries he knows he doesn’t deserve but will sorely miss.

Tony continues, “I have no idea where you even pack it all. That shirt’s from my MIT day’s, I wasn’t sure it’d actually fit you. Although,” Bruce notices Tony stare behind him, “Yep, all in the ass.” His eyes return to Bruce’s and bounces his eyebrows.

He scoffs and turns around as the elevator dings, exiting with quick, even strides. He doesn’t mean it, Banner. Think of the cloud. Sleep, sleep, sleep.

“Oh yea, I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away.” Tony chuckles. “Come on, Brucie. Fair’s fair right, don’t think I didn’t notice you staring at my delicious derrière all the way here.”

Sucking in air, he stops and looks over his shoulder. Mind flashes the image of those exquisite, hidden muscles. Moving in a metal suit would not be easy. The power this man would have. 

Deep eyes and handsome face, smirk at and entice him. “Hey, ogle away. I don’t wear these pants for people to not notice. Or do nothing about.” An eyebrow cocks in challenge as a sultry leer tilts his lips and directs his gaze down and up Bruce’s body.

Desire changes the images, to him stalking forward to reach out to the man. To grip and pull and take—Voice roughened, “You shouldn’t tempt me.” He bites his lip with hooded eyes, gaze locks as Tony’s pupils dilate and face tightens.

He blinks and shakes his head, he doesn’t want to scare the man. Control yourself, Banner. As if Tony would want you.

“Sorry. I need to sleep.” With that he hastily walks off and follows the half-remembered steps to the room he awoke in.

Peeling himself out of the borrowed clothes, ignoring any pulsing ache’s, he sighs deeply, collapsing into the welcoming cloud. 

When he next wakes, many hours later, he notices the two other doors in the  room.

The first opens to an opulent bathroom with a shower taking up the entire far wall. He ignores the unease prickling under his skin and fumbles with the controls. He places a steadying hand on the cool glass and takes in cleansing breaths as the luxurious heat and well-pressured water soothe him.

The other door leads to another jarring, dissonant sight. He gulps, feeling a visceral sense of wrongness seizing him, but manages to pick out the least frightening shirt in a collection of forbidden material—too delicate, too obscene for him to touch, let alone wear. He feels a bit better when he pulls the jeans from yesterday back on, grounding himself to a semblance of the real world.

He shuffles down the short hallway and curved stone staircase. Pauses at the wider step as a skyline view of New York city captures his attention. He blinks at the wall of glass with a section blacked out, shattered glass around it. Then glances along the three-step sunken area littered in chunks of stone. At the human-sized crater cracked in to it.

He jerks at a pleased—was that a purr?—in his mind. What the hell? Did he—the Other Guy—do that? He sighs, lips pursing and turns away, walking around on the raised, non-damaged, ring of the room to enter through the archway of the kitchen.

Rolling sleeves up his forearm, he turns to search the kitchen properly to cook something he would prefer consuming, not just for the calories.

Not seeing or hearing Tony anywhere, he still makes enough for them both. Any worry for waste is alleviated when the man half stumbles in, yawning, just as he grabs a plate.

He adjusts his reach and grabs two. Filling both with the simple stir fry.

“That smells good.” Is mumbled, causing a small smile and shoulders to relax from potentially over stepping.

He sets both plates on the pass-through counter with seats on the other side. “I found some frozen veg. Hope that was okay to use.” Moving out of the kitchen and around to sit, he hides his gaze through eyelashes as he grabs a fork and pretends to focus on the meal.

Instead, his attention is on the gorgeous sight of a sleep ruffled Tony Stark mumbling he’s free to use whatever, as he makes himself a large cup of coffee.

Hair messy and shooting out in awkward directions instead of their typical neat style. Pants slung low and shirt caught just high enough on back to expose a strip of smooth skin.

Appreciative gaze halts as a frown pulls on him when Tony spills the coffee, his hands shaking. He curses and mops it up with a cloth. The frown grows when Tony turns around, black smudged under his squinting eyes.

He wants to ask if he’s okay, if he slept. But not sure if his concerns would be welcome, so drops his gaze to the plate. He clenches his fist around the fork to stifle the chilling ache in his chest. Not your friend, Banner. Don’t kid yourself.

After a few seconds of quiet besides chewing, scrapes and slurps, Tony begins tapping his free hand along the stone counter.

“So..” He trails off in a yawn. Taking another gulp from his Stark Industries branded mug.

A little concerned, Bruce gazes into the mans warm, slightly unfocused eyes. Did he screw up already?

“I’m gonna go down to my workshop.”

He nods. Okay. He doesn’t expect Tony to entertain him. Of course the head of SI and Iron Man himself would have better things to do, even in the wake of the almost end of the world.

“Shall we play, Doctor?” He cocks his eyebrow and grins at him with glittering gold ringed eyes.

Bruce only has a moment for his lips to part at a returning warmth in his chest before the barrage of words start.

“I need to check on the Tower’s Reactor, the damage done to it, and the building in general. But I also have so much to show you.” Hands spread in the air then return down to place the, thankfully almost empty mug on the bench top. “Though repairs and adjustments need to be made on the recently debuted Mark VII, I want to hear your thoughts on all of them. Not many people can understand the actual science behind the suit, nor the Reactor mind you.” Tony winks at him. “I haven’t yet focused on the radiation side of things, either. So your expertise would be really helpful there. From your papers and what I saw on the helicarrier, I think you can help me with an issue I’ve noticed the past few flights.” Mug picked up again. “What do you say? A prelude to Candyland?”

“Um,” He finishes his last bite and places the fork down. Moving gaze across the grey stone top then back up at the man that is watching him with almost hopeful? wide eyes. Without consulting his mind, his mouth moves. “Yea. Yes.” Swallowing thickly, how could he respond differently to that look? He reaches up to grab his glasses, hand twitching as he touches bare skin. Right, no spares. “I’ll help however I can.”

Bruce stands quickly, the warm and light feeling in his chest making him jittery and desperate to move, to do something, and begins to tidy up. Tony tries to stop him but he likes the menial task, finds it meditative.

“Oh, where’s your broom, too?”

“What, I have no idea, why?” Tony raises an eyebrow and leans with a hand on the arch between open-living and kitchen.

He turns to the sink and pretends to organise the dirty dishes. “I’ll clean the floor in there, I think I—he, made it. Sorry.”

“Oh, no. Seriously, leave that. I pay an exorbitant amount of money for people to do that. Besides, I’m thinking of immortalising that Loki-crater. Don’t apologise. Thank you very much for that. Or say thank you to the Hulk for me. Not sure how that works. Anyway. I’ll let you clean the dishes while I get ready. But when I get back, we are doing science, not clean-up. Priorities, Banner.” He tuts and feet pad up the stairs.

Loki-crater? He hums and fills the sink with soap and hot water. Okay, most of his guilt is easily dismissed at that information. The ‘god’ definitely deserved whatever the Other guy did to him.

Though he does still feel bad for damaging Tony’s home. He needs to leave. Start planning how he’s going to flee the country with no organisations or army tracking and imprisoning him. Again. Before he damages the one, possible friendship, he has.

But...

He stares at the soap bubbles popping in the sink. What if...

The words of the team yesterday come back to him.

He had hoped the Other Guy would help by distracting the alien army while everyone else could focus on shutting the portal down and finding Loki. Not fight with, not be impressed.

What the hell happened yesterday?

Hand clenches around a plate as he shakes his head with tight smile. Just be thankful you didn’t hurt them. 

Lips curl down as frightened eyes flash at him. She knows. She understood the truth before they even met. And Captain America himself could barely look at Bruce. It seemed like he was holding back from saying something before they left. Was he worried about leaving Tony alone with him?

Arm moves clockwise as he wipes the pan.

Tony. Tony wasn’t worried. He hasn't changed how he speaks or acts around him, has he? Still wants to spend time with him. Grateful of the Other Guy damaging something. That crazy man. He smiles. Can he actually enjoy an honest connection again? Returned warmth mixes with a pulse in his chest.

He sighs and drains the sink, drying hands on a towel.

Temporary, Banner. Everything is temporary. You’re whole life has taught you this much is true. Enjoy this time while it lasts, enjoy living out a dream with a man you’ve wanted to meet for decades. Just for a few days, and then move on. He sighs again. Always moving on.

Said man is whistling down the stairs, halting Bruce’s thoughts as he comes around the corner. Wearing another short-sleeve band shirt—cyan light shining and capturing Bruce’s gaze as he stands just outside the kitchen.

He looks at Bruce with now alert, sparkling eyes and stalks toward him. Rubs a hand from shoulder, across his back, to grip the other shoulder and pulls Bruce back into him from his flinched distance.

Breath sharply drawn in, shivers shoot down his spine as he stumbles into Tony's side. Oh, that’s nice. Solid and warm, and that smell. He re-balances quickly even as an arm urges him around the room and to the elevator. He can barely focus on the mans excited words explaining the multi-level workshop that is his personal lab.

What cologne is he wearing? That smell is intoxicating. He subtly tries to breath his scent in.

They reach the floor quickly, the entire workshop brightens with warm amber light as soon as they step out. The dark, metallic space glows and gunmetal surfaces glitter with bronze. It is vast and without the light, Bruce thinks it would be quite cold with all the metal. But it is welcoming and draws out a comforting sigh from him.

"Alright, first things first." Tony waves out an arm around the shop. “Bruce, I introduce you to Just A Really Very Intelligent System. JARVIS, I present the one, the only, Doctor Bruce Banner.”

British voice begins speaking at the same time as three awakened robots perk their singular arm up and zoom over. Pronged hands clicking rapidly as they beep. Tony steps out of the way with a roll of his eyes, but Bruce can see his lips curling.

“Dr. Banner, it is an honour to finally meet you, I have had the privilege in analysing your work and if I may be so bold, I have curated some data I believe would interest you at your convenience.” His voice isn’t rushed but doesn't pause after his greeting.

He blinks around, not sure where to look as he opens his mouth to address the AI marvel. Distracted as one of the robots’ hands waves up and down in his face.

Bruce grins at him, shaking the metal hand as he notices the letters, and remembers seeing him in the first article that introduced him to the name and genius of one Tony Stark.

“Hi, DUM-E. I can’t believe—I've always wanted to meet you.” The robot beeps once and spins around on his base as he glides away with a high-pitched whirr. “And hello JARVIS, it’s an honour to meet you, too. I’d love to discuss my work, and anything else, with you. But uh,” He glances over to Tony, arms crossed, standing near the poled railing of a sloped ramp arcing up and around. Its seamless metal lined with guiding blue lights and bordered with glass panels. He smiles hesitantly at the man and scratches his cheek. “I think my schedules full today, Tony wanted my help with a few things.”

Another robot moves closer and clacks their fingers in front of his face as the other starts picking at the loose shirt he’s wearing.

“Oh, hello there.” He glances along their frames, “U, and, Butterfingers, is it? Nice to meet you, too.” Butterfingers clicks more rapidly and beeps at him, moving back and forth on their four-wheeled square-base. U tugs firmly on his shirt, making him stumble and grow worried that it might rip. “Careful.” He murmurs, stroking the hand latched onto him.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough. Leave Dr. Banner alone. U, let go. Butterfingers, he’s only been in here for a second, no, he doesn’t have anything for you to hold. Not that you would be capable of that, now would you? Don’t think I’ve forgotten last week, you’re still on probation. Both of you, Out Of The Way.” Tony tells them off, one hand on his hip and the other pointing at the other, still spinning and loudly whirring, AI robot.

They both droop their arms, U letting his shirt go, as they beep slowly and move back to an area that seems set apart for them to station at.

Bruce blinks and grins at them as he walks over to Tony. Eyes moving to the other side to take in the central work area of the floor. More gunmetal in the form of bare worktables that surround a large, black, circular table riddled with robotic parts, wires, and tools. He drags eyes from it to Tony. “They’re a—”

“Annoying, I know. I threaten to turn them into kitchen appliances all the time.” Tony cuts him off, smile softening his face. “They’ve been wanting to meet you, too. If that wasn’t obvious. I may have mentioned you once or twice. And JARVIS, well, lets just say he compiled all your work. Before I requested it.” He chuckles, gold shining bright with the amber of the room. He leans into the railing behind him, hands in pockets, and turns his gaze above Bruce with a smirk.

“If you reveal my secrets, sir, I am allowed to do the same.” JARVIS primly says.

Tony gapes. “What? When was that decided?”

“Two years, one month, six days, two hours, and seven minutes ago.”

Groaning with rolling eyes, Tony waves a hand at the high ceiling. “Whatever, you know I don’t remember all the shit I did then. And I wasn’t revealing secrets, J. Damn. No need to be so defensive. Banner won’t be scared off, will you?” He shoots an eyebrow at him.

Amused he tilts head back to look to the same general spot. “It’s alright, JARVIS. It’s..um, I’m flattered that, well, my work that is, would interest you.” He ducks his head as he feels his cheeks heat. “I’m not entirely sure why, it’s not particularly groundbreaking. Especially not compared to others.” He flicks eyes to the man and offers a hesitant smile at him. Then looks back up, scanning the solid dark metal for any hint of a seam, lens, anything. “And you." Voice drops to a murmur, "You’re...spectacular, JARVIS, I hope I have the pleas—uh, opportunity—to get to know you. I was really impressed with the speed you hacked S.H.I.E.L.D, by the way.” Stop gushing, Banner.

“Of course. And thank you, Dr. Banner. I will ensure that you do.” His voice is the same but words more polite than spoken to Tony. “But I must disagree with your comment. Your work on anti-electrons is groundbreaking. No one else has studied the vast potential of their collision byproduct.”

His lips tighten, eyes focusing on a brief flash of red light. His failure is reason enough to scare people away from that line of thought. He was a fool.

“And many of your ideas required higher processing priority, such as the different radiation that could reach Earth from certain Field Stars.”

He smiles at the discovered spot, light gone. Shoulders shake in silent amusement. That was barely a paragraph in an essay he wrote when he was an undergrad. “Higher processing priority, huh? I’ll take the compliment. Thank you.” He turns to Tony as a throat is cleared. Finding eyes narrowed at him. Concerned he’s done or said something wrong he blinks and smile falls away. “What?”

Tony smirks, “You just continually entice me. No one else notices or addresses JARVIS to his optical sensors. They think I’m just looking at nothing. As if he’s god. Which, well, let’s not give him that complex.”

“You carry that enough for the both of us, sir.”

“Alright, enough out of you. Stop trying to flirt with him, we agreed—DUM-E!” He stalks around to the loud robot. “Enough! Calm down already. Yes, it’s all very exciting. He knew who you were! But if you spin anymore you’re just proving me right that you’d be better off as a blender.”

Bruce snorts, hand rising to his mouth, as DUM-E does finally stop but arm then sways in the air as if he was dizzy. Tony pushes him further into the corner and pats his bottom cylinder, telling him to stay put and keep an eye on the other two. He gets a couple of slow beeps.

Shaking his head, Tony turns back to him. He claps and briskly rub his hands together. Then flashes pearly white teeth in a grin. “Lets do this. Science!” His hands explode out, blue and white constellations appear in the air around them and scatter throughout the room. 

Blue holographic screens snap into existence above each worktable. The constellations swirl and dart around before shooting up higher and the sound of machines buzzing and clicking on rolls down.

Curious, Bruce steps closer to the workrooms' brighter middle, gaze going up and mouth falling down. The metal ceiling falls away above the central work area, revealing a ringed void that exposes the two floors above. A singular, gold pole rises up a small distance away from the edge and connects to the top floor.

“What’s up there?” Voice hushed with awe, glancing over his shoulder.

“I told you on the way here.” Dark eyebrow raises. “First floor work, second floor science, third floor Iron Man. All floors pleasure.” He grins and slowly licks his bottom lip.

Bruce lightly sighs and shakes his head, eyes drawn back up, leaning forward to try and see the floor above them.

“Come on, I’ll show you. You didn’t have to but persuading me with that ass is definitely welcome. Anytime.”

Scoffing, he spins and straightens from his bent position.

Tony is gesturing up the ramp with a smirk, eyes shamelessly crawling up from his waist to meet his own.

He is lead up to the second floor as Tony talks about his meticulously designed personal workshop.

Both atrium levels above this main level are accessed by ramp-mezzanine walkways—“so the kids can easily move about.” Bruce smiles at that.

He tries not to drool as they step into a wide, stainless steel and chrome ringed floor filled with polished instruments and machines humming with scientific promise. “Just the essentials here, Candyland has way more.” 

Where the bottom is dark and welcoming, middle bright and clinical, the top level is pure heat—burning with deep crimson and brushed gold. Broad sections dedicated to the creation of Iron Man suits from forgery to assembly to rigorous testing.

And the pole from top floor to bottom is, of course, a fireman’s pole. “For rapid access.” Tony’s beard stretches and eyebrows bounce before he leaps and spins down the pole.

Bruce darts forward, gasping as he braces and looks over the railing.

Tony grins up. Calling him down, “Or are you chicken, Banner?! Bok-bok-bok!”

He shakes his head and huffs, even as a small pleasant feeling bubbles in his stomach. This man.

He walks back down by the ramps, spinning around trying to contain his twitching fingers at the familiar but much more advanced machines than what he was able to last use. Idea’s bouncing around in his mind at what he could do with it all. He breathes deep and forces himself back to the central hub.

Finally reaching the space with a pouting Tony. “Boring, Banner.”

He rolls his eyes. “If you’re done showing off you’re impressive equipment.” Tony smirks with wide, sparkling eyes, but remains silent. Bruce lightly glares and huffs, ignoring his warming cheeks. “You wanted my help with the suit?”

Tony’s lips morph into a grin, gesturing Bruce over as he zips between each worktable and brings up blueprints, scrolls through formula’s, and rattles off the material specifications. 

Hours quickly pass in muted elation as they work and dance around each other.

Bruce's stomach warms and body loosens, at his brain flexing in a way he has not been able to use in quite a while. For pure science pleasure and not dulled with a tension to cure him or save the world  from certain annihilation.

Softly smiling in wonder every time Tony touches him. Bumping shoulders and hips together. Arm curling around waist as the other points to direct his attention to something. Fingers trailing down back, up arm, and across neck.

As time goes on, he stops tensing and flinching out of the way. Body and mind believing that Tony wants to touch him. That he isn’t in the way or needs to move out of his way. That he knows what he is and just—doesn’t care.

The shivers and goose-bumps never stop, though.

Settled at separate tables, Bruce is currently explaining different material compositions to try against each type of radiation. Ignoring the tension building behind his eyes. “But instead of blocking that energy, what if—Well. I’ve encountered bacteria that can survive extreme radiation, even live off it. And there’s minerals that actually self-repair their own crystals. Imagine if you could combine the two.” He flashes an excited look at Tony who turns on his black saddle-stool to meet his gaze with bright eyes and soft smile. “I thought about it in Kerala, something that could ‘eat’ the radiation there and transmute it into building materials to help repair homes from natural damage and decay.” He rubs his eyes and blinks back to the Holo-screen. “Purely theoretical. But I’m sure you could use the idea to help give you an added layer of protection. Repairing the armour the longer you fight. Or even boosting—”

He pauses, something catching his attention as he squints and leans closer to the ankle joint of Mark VII. An arm reaches around his waist, hand suddenly pressing on his stomach as another moves under his own raised arm. Zooming the image closer for him to easily see.

He blinks and looks over his shoulder. Sheepish grin in place and gratitude on his lips when close, intense eyes stops him and traps air in his chest.

Tony smirks softly, grasping Bruce’s hand, fingers laying over fingers as the one on his stomach strokes up. Abdominal flexing at the touch. “Pinch and spread.” Bruce turns his wide eyes to watch as fingers are pushed down together, then pulled apart. “Focus the gesture point here.” Finger tips stroke the skin just below his nails. “I’ll make you some glasses.” Breath hot, tickling hair around his ear.

His chest heaves with a needed breath and he sways on his feet. The movement causes his back to brush against the chest close behind him. He halts a building shiver.

With a last stroke down fingers, hand slides around to hip and squeezes before Tony moves away. “JARVIS, give Dr. Banner free access to the Tower, all floors.  Entrances and exits, too.” Wait, what? “You’re free to go wherever you want. When it all gets fixed up, that is.”

Shocked mute and in disbelief, Bruce blinks blankly at the blue-white lines. Trying to bring his mind back into focus.

When he is able to concentrate, Tony is explaining the Stark Industries part of the Tower. "The first 25 floors are boring, we can skip those. But the specialised Research and Development labs, that’s where Candyland is. And yes, it is called that. Most of the floors are set up for Arc Reactor tech, 25 to 30 is purely Clean Energy Grid work right now. The attack delayed the plan a little, but everything is set. Prototype still functioning in the face of invasion is actually a good sell point. So it may get a bit crazy here in a couple of months, be prepared.”

Bruce rubs his straining eyes, and stares with a confused twist to his lips at the man now sitting at the large, angled worktable a short distance away. He won’t be here, why would that matter?

"That's why Pepper is out of the country. Safe away from the invasion was just great timing. She's excellent at scheduling things even before they happen. I swear it's her super power." Tony spins the projected Tower's Arc Reactor. Pinching a few layered pieces off to zoom and inspect them,  then letting them bounce back into place. 

"You're not focusing on America first?" Bruce asks, leaning a hip against the table as he just watches the brilliant man work. Giving his eyes a much needed break, he tells himself.

Numbers begin scrolling quickly along the projected screen near the 3D Holo, Tony's eyes darting between the two. "The whole world needs to be on clean energy. Yesterday. Besides, that's what the different R&D teams are for. The Tower is base of operations número uno." A hand begins typing on the screen, just as fast as the scrolling numbers. "Pepper is in Japan—I think—or ending there? Anyway. To promote the Reactor tech and show off the Grid. But also interviewing people to see who we can bring here or set-up as kind of ambassadors and directors for Stark tech in those parts of the world. We can focus on smaller scale; America, and larger scale; the World, at the same time. What's the point otherwise." He twists side to side on the stool and swipes the numbers onto Holo-image. Leaning back, hands click and smack against each other as it pulses into motion. An intensity settles on his face, eyes squinting as he watches.

Lips stretch cheeks in a wide grin. “Good."

Tony remains focused as colours begin flashing across the Reactor. “It’s the least I can do. Give back to the world, to the people, you know? My adoring fans deserve it.” Hand strokes and plays with the strands of his moustache and around to soul patch. “Now that the ball’s rolling on this, we can also direct other minds to create their own ideas, too. No weapons. Just things people across the world actually need to help improve their lives. That’s the vision of SI, now. The original point for the Expo. Why not go further and fund those minds directly, hands-on and international, ensure it’s not taken and corrupted, you know?”

"Tony Stark. You’re a great man." Smile gentles, he ducks his head as a pulsing heat ripples through his chest. He peeks through lashes to look at him. 

Intense face relaxes with a twitch of lips, eyes dart to him, the screen, then head swivels back to focus on him with parted lips. Big eyes blink, larynx  bobs. Then face slowly crawls into a smirk. “Flattery will get you horizontal.” Eyebrow cocks up. Then attention snaps back to the screen as it beeps. Simulation ended, results flashing.

Catching his breath after that look, Bruce continues to watch this brilliantly brave man.

He had been hiding in Africa, after he escaped Ross’s prison, when he saw the news that Stark Industries were ending their weapons division. Had to ask someone else to double check he was reading the language right.

Moving on north-west, healing people in the Horan region of Somalia, he overheard the smugglers complaining about their weapons shipment being destroyed by a ‘metal man’.

Concerned but grateful at the decline in injuries from these weapons, he tracked them to their source in Afghanistan. Finding them already dismantled. The people there were happy to tell him what happened—that Death was their savour. 

These Ten Rings warlords, attacked the American militia and kidnapped the Merchant of Death—Tony Stark. Then three months later, a flying metal object shot out from their exploding mountain base. Tony was saved, taken back to the U.S. And then the moniker changed the meaning of it’s name. Any remaining SI weapons were hunted and destroyed. No matter who or where they were.

Iron Man, soon revealed to be Tony Stark himself, was heralded as a hero by the people in every village Bruce moved to for the next year.

So proud and happy for him, for telling the shady military and their money to shove it—he’s not arming their games anymore. His teenage self would be overjoyed at the news. Having believed the young, edgy Stark—who was already creating Artificial Intelligence better than anyone—would one day change the world for the better.

And here he is. An adult now. Absolutely changing the world. In ways Bruce knows it desperately needs.

Eyes flick down to glowing blue.

Changing the world with clean energy. Bruce shivers, looking between the Holo-Reactor and the one in Tony’s chest. Invented in a cave, perfected to power cities. Pulsing heat clenches low in his stomach.

Shit. What a mind.

Now he tells him he’s making it international as quickly as possible. To share it with everyone. And is going to ensure other great minds get what they need to help better the world beyond energy? He sighs.

What a man. 

Returning to the sound of Tony’s voice, he smothers a derisive scoff as he is  promised an entire floor for himself. “Well, I do have a plethora of ideas after so many years with no means to do anything about them." He is comfortable enough to tease. Shaking his head he twists his lips and  turns back to the blueprints, practising the zooming motion. The lines are still blurry from his faulty vision, but he can see the smaller parts now.

Tony snorts. “I don’t doubt. Hell, you can help direct the new R&D teams then. Pepper is only hesitant of this idea at the thought of me in charge of people, ones I would need to have regular contact with, apparently. Not my forte.”

He snorts at that. “Only if I can vet them myself.”

“Sure. That seems fair.”

His shoulders shake in silent laughter. “Labs with all the equipment I could need and dream of?”

Sounding mighty offended he gets a quick, “Of course. The best. If you want anything, Bruce. Ask and its yours.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

He smirks over to Tony, “As long as Stark Industries gets the credit, right?”

Tony immediately swipes off the projected screen and turns on the stool to give Bruce his complete attention. Intense eyes causes Bruce’s chest to tighten with hitched breath.

“No. Your work will remain yours. I guess I’ll have to get Pepper to draw up an official contract. Or I’ll never hear the end of it. But what you do, will be yours and shared at your discretion. You’re in control, Bruce, that’s a Stark guarantee.”

Sharp inhale through his nose, he slowly turns on his feet to completely face him. “Are you serious?” he questions, he didn’t think they were speaking in actuality, Bruce was just playing along. “Tony, you make it sound like...”

“Like?” He implores.

“As if I can stay here. Like it’s that simple.”

“Of course it is.” As if he truly doesn’t understand how it’s not.

Grunting in a bit of pain, his brow scrunches and lips purse. “I wish I had your delusional confidence.”

“Okay, one, rude. It is not delusion, this is real and raw, baby. And b, it’s not just confidence. I am promising you. Granted perhaps not the best to do through a recruiting offer, but—” He huffs. “I’ve thought this through. I know how to handle guys like Ross.” Bruce winces at the name. “Hell, I have handled him up close and personal. Aaand that sounded way too sexual, gross.” Stool is sent rolling back as he swiftly stands. “Look, my point is. You don’t have to worry about him anymore. Even if you do decide you still want to go and heal thy people across the vast and distant lands, no one will be after you. That life on the run, it’s over. Done-skie.” Arm cuts through the air then points at Bruce. “You’re safe now. And you’re a full fledged superhero, in case that hasn’t occurred to you either.”

He breathes out a deep sigh through his nose. “It’s not that simple, Tony. And—no.” He puts out his palm to halt Tony moving any closer and opening his mouth to interrupt. “Even—even if that is true, and I am incredibly grateful, and do wish you could stop—”Breathe. Deep sigh.“—Him. I won’t, it won’t be safe. And I can’t stay. Even if I could, I don’t deserve..this.” He gestures around, trying to convey not just the workshop and Tower, but Tony and the offer at a life and biggest dream since the start of his academic career. 

A small scowl is the instant response. “Bullshit.”

Exasperating man. Bruce pinches the skin between his eyes. “What? No it’s—” 

“Bullshit. Bull. Shit. Absolute nonsense.” Tony crosses the distance between them in swift strides and stops a step away. “I will not tolerate such ridiculousness, no way Jose. You deserve this and so much more.”

Deep breath in, Bruce turns his face away from him, unable to handle seeing those fierce eyes and listen to those words. It is confronting yet soothes something deep within himself. Before his mind begins stripping it away and making his chest ache. His head drops and he looks at the stone floor with a crumpling, tight face.

He does not deserve it. Even this, this time with Tony, is something he knows he does not deserve. But. Eyes squeeze as tight as his jaw. He is weak.

“I mean it. Bruce, I have met many people in this world, people who have so much that they really don’t deserve to have. At all. And I am one of those people.” Bruce opens eyes at that. Tony, what, of course you do.  “And you? You deserve to have a goddamn life. A life of choice. To share your beautiful, genius self with the world. To be happy. You may not believe me now. But if you just give me the chance. You will.” Tony ends firmly.

Breath quickening. “Tony, I w—“ Before he can finish, he bites his lip and looks up through his lashes. He wants that to be true.

His chin is touched by a curled finger to lift his head. A thumb runs below his trapped lip before pressing and pulling down to release it.

Eyes squint at him. “Do you even know?”

Brows furrow back in confusion. “What?”

“Of course not.” Tony groans, bringing his face a fraction closer so breath fans across him. “You will.” Is promised again, softer now. Pink lips come closer and breathe across his own with each word as Bruce’s vision is consumed by the twin golden-brown galaxies. “You’ll figure it out. I’ll make you.”

His body instantly feels like it could combust, stomach clenching low, heat tightening chest. The temptation of the man in front of him is too much. With a fierce shudder his control slips, all the touches throughout the day have warn him down and now—his face tilts the last millimetre needed. Lips press, noses brush, and his mind is gone.

Gentle meeting of lips ends quickly, pulled back as Bruce gasps a breath before his bottom lip is suddenly captured in a small suck, enough to wet it, tickled with a quick tongue before he is released again.

He sighs, eyes closed as he runs his own tongue along the same path. Humming, he sucks his own lip to get more of the taste.

Lips press to his again, he releases lip to return that intensity. Kissing harder and longer as both their hands begin to move.

His head is framed by large palms, fingers playing with his curls as his own encircle wrists, feeling quickening but steady pulse. No fear. He then dares to take the chance and touch the man, stroking a firm back through soft clothing.

At the next parting for stuttered breath, Bruce’s tumbles out as a soft moan. Mind swirls with pure want. He feels more than hears himself breathe a soft, “Please.”

A groan is his answer before lips meet again. Harsh and slick as they glide against each other with a scratch of moustache as the angle adjusts. Teeth then nip and coax his own to part for a tongue that darts and teases him.

With a whimper, he relaxes his jaw for his own tongue to meet slick heat that twists and strokes into him.

Softened mouth allows himself to be tasted. Devoured. Hot tongue tickles up, along the palate of his mouth. Gliding in and out, stroking one cheek and upper teeth before crossing and swirling to do the same to the other side. Scrapes down along his own tongue to steady its rhythm there, occasionally flicking at the found sensitive spots.

Desperate, pleading sounds are muffled by the moving organ. Bruce’s fingers gripping and nails digging into shoulders to ground himself.

It’s been so long. 

His balance is lost for a moment, knees weak, he falls forward, heaving chest pressing into hard muscle and hot—it feels hot—metal.

With amused huff, Tony leans back a fraction, taking heat away. Removing his mouth with a last, wet lick and gentle nip. Giving Bruce a moment to catch his breath.

Dazed, he looks into pupil blown eyes.

Fingers untangle from his hair, gently stroking down his jaw and neck, landing on his shoulders.

Breath stutters out of his still open mouth, drying the remaining spit on his lips. His gaze falls to the plush lips in front of him. He feels his own tingle, knowing what they feel like against his own, wanting them to return. 

He realises his own hands are surely painfully digging into Tony’s back, forces them to relax, flattening and stroking down the covered strength. They come to rest at Tony’s sides, fisting the looser cloth there, arms tense but he stops the urge to pull the man closer.

One hand releases his shoulder to move up and cup his cheek.

Unable to resist, Bruce leans his face into the touch with a sigh, eyes closing to relish in the feel of skin against skin. A calloused hand taking up almost the entire side of his face. 

He’s been with a few men before, has known he wasn’t straight since puberty. He wasn’t much for labels but had a brief stint in Harvard of self-discovery. To determine reality from fantasy. 

Nothing serious, and with no-one close enough that they would be intimate and soft like this. Honestly, he had only experienced that closeness with Betty.

And she was his last for anything.

Ever since the accident, he has not trusted himself, nor met anyone he had trusted, to be in such a vulnerable, potentially very precarious, situation. To risk it. Any of it.

So he’s not entirely sure if it’s because it has been so long, or the newness in feeling this with a man. Or perhaps it’s just a pure Tony thing. But being touched right now. Being so close to another and not being pushed away or feared, of not worrying about their reaction to him—if they only knew.

Being touched, is wonderfully overwhelming.

And he craves it.

A low whine begins to form in his throat as he rubs his cheek along Tony’s palm. Wanting. Just wanting.

“Oh, Bruce.” He sounds just as wrecked as Bruce feels.

A small thrill shudders up his spine and he blinks eyes open to look at the man so close to him. Enthralled by the handsome face and swirling eyes focused solely on him.

Thumb strokes his skin, causing eyes to flutter shut. Shooting open when the other hand around his shoulder moves behind him, arm wrapping around his waist and pulling their bodies together. Touching from chest to thighs.

He shudders again and whimpers.  

“I’ve got you. Oh, the plans I have for you. You might run from me if you knew.” The last sentence is gritted out, the arm around him and face tightening with the words.

Their hips rub against each other at added pressure around his waist. He gasps at the sensation. Attention now on the pooling heat low in his stomach, the tightness in his pants, and the feeling of a similar hardness in front of him.

He shakes his head in a daze. Why would he leave this feeling?

"No?" Pupils dilate, hiding gold.  

Wide eyed, his gaze is locked with the other man’s darkening one. He can’t control himself and pushes forward to feel that pressure.

It is almost painful, dry flesh rubbing against unyielding cloth. But it feels so good. He rocks forward again, moaning as he chases that delicious feeling.

Almost feral grin crinkles skin around eyes. “That’s it.” The hand on his cheek moves into his hair, gently gripping it but tight enough that it tugs at his scalp.

A higher pitched moan tumbles out, the pressure at his scalp causes his hips to jerk forward. Dick rubbing and moving so tight against the other that he feels the harsh grind of pelvic bone through their layers.

“Yea? You like that?” Another tug, sharper this time.

“Tony.” He pleads. Eyes fall to the delicious lips so close yet too far from his as he continues to mindlessly grind. Mouth open and panting.

The arm behind him shifts down, hand grabbing his ass cheek and guiding his next movement to twist and meet Tony’s own. Their covered dicks press straight into each other, Bruce’s sensitive head catching and jerking along the rough cloth and separated heat. He gasps at the feeling.

Tony pulls and grinds to make it happen again.

“That feel good?”

“Yes. Good. Yes. More.” He sounds so wanton and bites his lip to try to stop himself.

A groan from in front of him and then his mouth is claimed again. Lips sucked and bit, wet tongue thrusting in the same rhythm as their hips.

He shudders, forced to just feel. Hair pulled firm, body held tight. Gasping breaths when given the chance, but always begging, searching, for it to return if lips stay away for too long.

Breathing is not important.

In the back of his mind, far away, he thinks he should care about breathing and maintaining control. But heat and pressure and yes, so good—chases it easily away.

There is the sound of cloth ripping with the next roll of hips, he shouts over it as he feels his dick throb with a building pressure. It’s been so long. He needs. He wants.

Hands have fallen away from Tony, whimpering, they return, frantic, and encounter soft skin. He grabs and pulls Tony closer, tighter. Shifting and twisting his hips to increase the pace. To get more, more.

“Tony. So good. Please.”

“Bruce.” A harsh press of teeth in his lip before it scrapes and their mouths are just panting open into each other. “Want more of those sweet sounds.”

His other ass cheek is grabbed fiercely as sharp pressure at his head is released, gripping and forcing hips closer, stopping his movements. Only allowed to just take. Take Tony’s now brutally, exquisitely slow rolls.

Air is pierced as he keens with clenched jaw.

His trapped dick hurts so good, the rough cloth scrapes and tugs hard flesh, as harsh, tight pressure from Tony’s own hardness moves against him.

Grabbing the waist high and tight, he curls his hands around lats and anterior muscles, then scrapes his nails down Tony’s sides, his defined obliques.  Catches the band of his pants, gripping it, he tries to jerk him forward.

“Need it. Faster, Tony. Please. I need it.”

Tony's gasp turns into a chuckle and slowly twists his hips a few more times before shifting a leg in between Bruce’s, pressing in and up so his dick gets delicious pressure everywhere. Squeezed and rubbed along constricting jeans.

“Yes!”  He shouts. “Been so long. Tony, yes. So good.” Words tumble out and end on a moan, trying to move but held too firmly, Tony just pressing his thigh back and forth slowly, so slowly. But so good. He moans, so loud it echoes throughout the multi-levelled workshop.

Pressure momentarily catches his balls. He shouts and throws his head back to stare hazily at the high, crimson-hot floor. Hands grip and move him with strength used to masterfully mold and shape metal. Firm thigh tenses and rocks into him with power honed by moving in a heavy suit.

With a breathy moan, he drops his head down to rest bleary gaze on the man controlling him. A warmth prickles across every inch of his skin, leaving him weak, to just gasp breaths and take what is given. “Ah, ah, yea, Ton-ah.” A strong shiver wracks through him and he keens on the next breath. "Please." Eyes clench shut. It’s too much yet not enough, he wants so badly.

“Oh, Bruce. You want to cum like this?” Tony moans. “Fuck, you’re so  desperate for it, aren’t you?” His grip eases on him, making him whimper. “Show me. I want to see it.” A hand taps his ass, urging him. 

Unleashed, hips instantly start rutting.

Whole body moving, rocking on his feet as he thrusts fast and hard. Up and down. His balls are tugged again, delicious pressure consuming, they pull up tight. He shudders, twisting hips to get that feeling again. Hot breath panted across his face. 

He is surrounded in sensation. In touch.

He whines and chases this sweet pleasure to the end. Wanting. Needing. Taking.

Eyes fly open and find large, dark ones intent on his face. He feels his upper lip lift to the side, the pressure in his dick builds and builds. Stomach clenches, abdominal rippling.

Tony’s eyes widen, pupils dilating so much that they turn black, as Bruce tenses and growls.

The pressure releases.

Hot, hot jets shoot in his pants. Hips twitching along with it. Riding out the pressure, making it last.

Shoulders shudder with a final breathy groan, Bruce slumps into the body in front of him. Hands gliding down lovely skin to land on the waistband of jeans. Thumbs hook under to help steady him. 

The thigh between his shift once more, makes him whimper as balls ache and hips twitch, before pressure is removed entirely.

He pants to catch his breath, shivers down his spine subsiding, trying to keep his legs from giving out. He lets his head fall, resting on Tony’s shoulder, turns it into his warm neck. Nose brushes up the soft skin, breathing the delicious, musky scent of the man.

The hand loosens around his hair and combs through it, the other moving around and palms his softening dick.

He breathes out a soft whine and jerks his hips at the touch to sensitive flesh, feeling the cum drenching his pants. He can’t believe he did that, like a randy teenager. He groans, mind starting to slowly switch back on and feeling embarrassed at how he reacted.

Tony hums, fondling Bruce’s covered dick, making him softly moan at the almost too much touch. He can probably feel his cum through the thick denim, too. “Told ya we’d get to all three.”

“What?” He mumbles.

“The three S’s. Sleep, science, sex. Check, check, check.” Hand moves back around to his ass and gives it a firm squeeze.

Bruce lifts his head to look at him. “Oh, is—Right. Of course.” He nods, feeling steady enough he leans away, releasing his grip, and takes a step back. Deep breath. He glances to the side, a hollowness beginning to form in his chest as the wetness in his pants cools.

Of course this wouldn’t mean much to him—he, wouldn’t mean much. Just an act to check off. An urge to itch. His lips curl down. A bribe? A send off?

“Hey. No to whatever you’re thinking. Just no. That is not a look that should be on your face, especially right after a show like that. Damn, Bruce.” Tony groans softly. “That was so hot. But next time, clothes need to be removed, and I don’t just mean ripped shirt. I’m talking naked. You especially. And maybe a bed, but I’m sure we’ll get around to all the surfaces. On all the floors. Yes. Yes, great idea. JARVIS, make a checklist.”

Next time? Wait—ripped? Fear shoots through him, chilling any lingering heat as he instinctively feels his own clothing. But find them intact. Quick eyes then dart to take in the sight of Tony. His shirt is barely hanging on around his shoulders, ripped from the sides at his waist, abs and skin exposed. He sees the red marks in obvious finger spacing, and the imprint high up. Gasping he raises a hand but leaves it hovering.

“Tony. I’m so sorry. I—I told you I’m—God.”

“You didn’t tell me you were God. After that performance, I’ll call you whatever you want.” Tony smirks, stepping forward into Bruce’s hand.

He snatches it away into his own chest, horror and disgust curdling his stomach. “Don’t joke right now. We should never have. I—I should never have allowed myself to—and lose control like that.” His face is crumpled, eyes tight. How could he be so reckless? Was his entire life not enough to learn yet? He can’t have what he wants. “I could have, I did hurt you. This is why I—it could have been so much worse.” He ends with a horrified whisper, other hand coming up to tightly grip the one at his chest as his mind starts forming images of exactly what could have happened.

A rumble at the back of his mind and the quickening of his heart reinforces his fears. Taking a deep breath he closes his eyes and turns his face to the side. Breathe, Banner. Rumble softens into a murmur. Breathe. It dissipates and he is in control. Heart steady, anger present, always present, but not in focus.

He sighs, shoulders slumping. Hands now clasped loosely in front of his stomach as he twists and strokes them. Focus on that. No danger. It’s okay. Don’t lose to the danger.

“Bruce.”

He purses his lips and keeps his head hung, staring down at his moving hands.

“Bruce, you didn’t hurt me.”

He scoffs.

Tony groans. “Okay, so you scratched me, so what. That is a normal thing between consenting adults during passionate moments. You’re not the first to mark me up during sex.”

The growl in his throat is sudden and fierce. His eyes widen. What the?

“No need to be jealous, Jelly Bean. It’s in the past. But FYI that is so hot, I almost came when you did that.”

“Tony.” He chokes, jerking his head up to stare incredulously at him. “Take this seriously.”

“I am.” And his face is serious, firm with slightly furrowed brow, lips set in a straight line. “I am so serious, Bruce. You are not a danger to me. I am not scared of you. I am not scared of Hulk.”

He gulps and eyes fall to ripped shirt and the red flush in the shape of his hand. “You should be.”

Tony sighs heavily, hands clenching at his sides then swinging up to click and wave in the air. “JARVIS, bring up the ‘My Hunky Hero’ footage.”

A Holo flashes into the air to the side of them, depicting a still frame of a familiar dark hole ripped in a bright blue sky.

It plays with a cacophony of sound. Staccato cracks of energy pulses. Shattering impacts of metal and concrete. Sharp wails of various alarms and sirens. 

The noises fall away as the hole rapidly collapses in on itself, just before it blips out of existence, a small red figure appears out of it.

Bruce steps closer, moving hand up to adjust glasses and squints instead.

Tony. In his Iron Man suit. He’s moving slow and strange in the air. As if...

Panic shoots through him, prickling the skin between his shoulder blades as he gasps.

He’s falling. Tony’s falling. 

The rumbling in his head returns. Danger?

The angle changes and zooms abruptly down. Iron Man, falling back down to Earth, so high up he’s above the tallest buildings of New York. They look so small behind him.

He’s not slowing down. The suits not working. 

His breath deepens, mind flashing—‘Danger-Metal Man-Danger’. Hands clench at his sides.

Angle changes again, below Iron Man now, just as he begins to pass a building. Still no sign of lights in the suit. No one there to help him. To save him.

Tony.

A shiver cracks his spine and he feels his face drain of heat and blood, muscles tense, triceps ripple—

A booming roar and sudden crash as a big, green, hulking figure slams into Iron Man. Catching him in one arm, the other grabbing hold of the building to slow their descent. Taking the brunt of the falling pieces of stone. He then kicks away from it and lands on the ground.

The video stops on that image, Iron Man cradled on top of large green muscles with destruction around them.

Bruce’s harsh breathing and a rumbling in his chest with each exhale, fills the air.

“I’m okay.”

He sharply turns with a primal grunt and stares at Tony with wide eyes, urged to look down at his chest. The light of the Arc Reactor blazes through the thin, ripped shirt.

“Your eyes are really green. He checking things out? I’m safe, buddy. You saved me. Thanks for that.”

And then, astonishingly. Instead of him needing to focus to regain control— ready to tell Tony, this crazy man, to run, not talk—he hears a deep, growly sigh in his mind before all is silent. Body relaxes. 'Safe. No danger'. What the hell? Was that—words—in his mind?

“See, Hulk cares about me.” He smugly grins, preening a little. “And look, your fine. You should trust him, yourself, more. He’s not stupid. Cause you’re not stupid. And not to freak you out, but again, honesty, it’s a new thing I’m trying. When you climaxed, spectacularly, I might add. The flecks of green in your gorgeous eyes glowed.” Tony then shortens the space between them and slowly brings his hands up, one moving to his cheek and the other resting on his chest, above his heart. “Listen. You deserve choices. That’s what I’m doing, or trying to do. Give you choices.”

Blinking at the Reactor’s soothing light then up at the man’s deep brown eyes. A lightness in his chest makes him sway on his feet. The hand on his chest grips his shoulder and steady’s him. “Choices. Like, to work for you?” What exactly is this, what do you want from me? He doesn’t dare to ask.

“With me.” Hand on cheek combs through his hair to cup the back of his head. “However you want. I am giving me as a choice, Bruce.”

Swallowing thickly he takes a deep breath and thinks.

What he saw, and how the Other Guy reacted just now. What Thor and Clint said. What Tony said—could he be right, after all?—It has given him something he has not felt in a long, long time. Hope. Real hope.

And this man. This brilliant, crazy, exasperating man. Makes everything sound so simple.

Does he really mean however I want? Can he dare to hope that much? He shakes his head, dislodging Tony’s hand and putting one foot back to get some space.

Slow down, Banner. They’ve only just met. They get along sure, and they can obviously work together, pretty well if this afternoon and the helicarrier proves anything.

But..more? More with Tony? 

He can’t deny to himself that he is attracted to the man.

His eyes move to the three AI-robots.

He has had a small crush on Tony’s mind since he first heard of him. Attending MIT while Bruce suffered through public school and secretly dreamed of meeting the younger teen. He’s part of why Bruce obtained a PhD in Robotics—a small part—he wanted to be able to talk to him.

Throughout the years he's heard of his inventions. Yes, the weapons, which Bruce at first disliked him for doing, dulling his admiration. But the technology. The Robots. The Artificial Intelligence. The Interface Systems. Tony Stark is a genius, there has never been denying that.

Bruce's crush got out of hand after Afghanistan. Coalescing into the man he's become. It was more than his mind, definitely physical, possibly more.

A desire that awoke in Culver from that first image, was unlocked and settled deep in that desert. Especially when he saw the first clear photo of—his cheeks tingle with heat—that heavy, metal suit he moved in with such ease. With a hypnotic blue light. 

When Bruce first saw the man, no longer a teen, on the front page of a business magazine Betty was reading. He was ready to make his usual comment when catching her reading that kind of stuff but had gasped at the sight of the cover. She instantly knew what caught his attention. And what his blush meant. He can still remember the fear he first felt, quickly morphing in to an interesting apprehension when she gave him a wicked grin and pulled him to the bedroom with magazine in tow. Reprimanding him that he’d apparently been holding out on her.

Blushing even more at the memory, he shifts on his feet as his dick twitches. Already? Control yourself, Banner.

But actually meeting him, starting to know the real Tony, and now touching him. He wants to please this man in so many ways. But can he?

Eyes are drawn to Tony again. Away from the marks he made, and notices the still very prominent bulge in his tight pants. He licks his lips.

“With you, would that be a, a reciprocal, mutual thing?” Did you give me this just for my sake? Pity? Because you've noticed no-one will? He frowns and looks up to try and read Tony’s face. “Are you attracted to me?” 

A deep sigh and a pained but soft smile is given to him. “Yes, Bruce.  Desperately. I am attracted to you. I want you. In every room, every position, every kind of way. I can’t believe I have to spell this out for you, I don’t think I was being subtle." Tony combs a hand through his spiked hair. "Everything." Large eyes rake down his body then up to his to capture him in their intensity. "I’ve decided I want everything. But I want that, only if that’s what you want. Choices, remember. I will take what I can get." Hand flings out to the side. "If that’s only somethings, then so be it. I will live with that. I’ve liked you for a very long time. This is not new. It’s just evolved since meeting you. Quite rapidly, I can admit. But that says more about you than me, I think.” His lips curl, small and soft.  

Floored, chest tight with trapped breath he chokes out “Oh.” Breathe, Banner. Tony really wants him? Wants everything? “Okay.”

“Okay?” Chuckled with eyebrow cocked.

Lick of lips, hand rising to grab empty space from his nose, he adjusts and rubs it across his mouth to try to reconnect brain and mouth.

“Yea. Okay. With you. Sounds good.” He clenches jaw to stop his mouth continuing, but, “I want to make you cum.” Smooth, Banner.

Tony stalks closer with a now wicked smirk. “Oh, yea?” His face leans in, then lightly frowns and leans back. “I may regret asking, but you’re not worried now? About, hurting me? Without consent that is.”

Grimacing, Bruce shuffles on his feet then twists his lips up on one side in an unsure smile. “No. But. Well.” He can’t handle looking into Tony’s intense eyes this close. Looking off to where the Holo still shows that wondrous image. Is there a chance? “The, the Other Guy might actually like you. As crazy as that thought is and, well. So far, evidence suggests that I, he, we—whatever, won’t hurt you.” He glances at the marks he made, the hand print so light it’s barely noticeable. “Or, don’t want to.” He shakes his head. “More data is needed. I think I should give finding out if that’s true a real chance. And, as for, well, me pleasing you is a good controlled variable to start with.” Heat prickles his neck and spots along his cheeks. He tests a hypothesis he has, looks up at Tony with hooded eyes and intentionally bites his bottom lip.

Reaction supports it, Tony instantly groans and large hands move to touch him, firmly gripping his hips.

Hiding twitching lips, this gives him confidence enough that he moves forward to press himself into the hard body. He wants you. He trusts you. You won’t hurt him. No danger.

Breath deepening he feels the grin escape with a spark of elation. He looks into darkening eyes as pupils dilate. A hand cups his cheek as his own move to hook fingers over Tony’s waistband.

He settles his hips into the hardness in front of him with his own returning interest.

Tony hisses and tightens the hand on his hip. “Fuck, already, Banner?”  Other hand moves behind his head and grips his hair, tight. He gasps and rocks hips up. Hanging on for balance by Tony’s pants. “Oh. You have no idea. We are going to have a surplus of data. Don’t you worry.”

Another tug, forcing his head to tip back and mouth to remain gasping open. His eyes are wide and he shudders at the fierce look that tightens Tony’s  face.

Tony leans closer, lips almost brushing as he breathes hotly, teasingly, into him.

He whimpers, wanting to move that little bit closer to touch, but his hair is held firm.

Eyes squint at him, darting along his face, a similar look entering them as when Tony was working on the Reactor. Searching. Calculating. “Uh uh.”  Hand tight and voice firm. “Be good for me.”

He shudders again, choking out a high moan. Flushing completely as he answers quickly, too quickly. “Yes, Tony.”

Humming with pleased smile and hungry eyes, Tony finally moves that last millimetre but twists Bruce’s head to the side and away from his mouth.  Lips trail across his jaw, the scratch of anchor beard along stubble sending delicious thrills down spine.

He gulps in breaths, trying to control himself as his ear is heated, lobe gently bit.

Tony’s hand slides around his back, under jeans, to grip and squeeze his bare ass cheek. He moans loud in Bruce’s ear. Nails scratching lightly across skin.

“You really want that, Bruce?” Whispered with teasing brush of tongue.

“Yes, Tony.” He hisses. Wants it. Needs it.

Sucking earlobe, hand massages his ass as much as it can in tight pants. “I need you to answer something for me.”

He waits, trying not to shift his hips. Wanting to be good so badly.

“Why?”

Lost, not knowing how to answer or what he’s being asked. He hums questioningly.

“Why?”  His voice sounds different, not as sure, almost, hesitant? “Is it just because of Hulk? To experiment? You obviously haven’t had sex, had touch in general, in a long while. I need to know. Why do you want me?”

The answer comes to him quickly, but he catches it before it leaves his throat. Blush surely darkening his entire face and chest. “Tony.” He mumbles. Not a total lie.

Sharp nip to ear. “Tell me. Come on, I’ve been honest with you, Bruce.”

“It’s not just to experiment. I—I do want to. I want to please you.”

“Bruce.” His voice carries warning as he mouths wetly along his jaw, “Why me?” then bites, hard.

He whines. “You deserve it.” There, that’s enough, right?

Sharp teeth release and lift away, big eyes stare at him, soft with the first hint of vulnerability Bruce has seen in him. The first hint of fear.

Oh, Tony.

Honesty. He wants—needs—honesty, Banner. Deep breath. “You impress me, in so many ways. Even more, after meeting you. You deserve everything. And I want to, to try and give that to you. It may be a terrible idea, to allow, to even experiment. To, to touch. The possibility that I could—” His breath hitches. “To have. To feel—” Groan. “I—I want so badly, Tony. To be with you. To please you. Because you deserve it. I may not, or believe that I can”—have any of this—“try, for myself. Trust that I can. But, I—I  can for you. I’ll try for you.” More importantly. “I trust you.” 

“Bruce.” Is whispered now with such reverence.

“Having this,” He swallows, not sure if he is making sense but the words spill out of him. Wanting Tony to understand. Quick lick of dry lips. “I’d hoped to meet you one day, you know? Even before the accident. Meet this brilliant, amazing, sexy man.” He huffs a small, disbelieving laugh through his nose. “I didn’t think I could have any of this. Have touch as a, a choice. And for it be with you?” To prove it to himself, he brushes hands along Tony’s hips, following obliques up to his back then around to his abs and grabs strong hips. He releases a shaky sigh. “I need—Experimenting is just to make sure. Tony. Please. I—I want you. In any way I can. Don’t doubt that. I want to give you everything I can, to be good for you is another layer, sure. And you deserve it all.” He looks into deep golden-brown. “I’m starting to hope, that—that the Other Guy might see you as—safe.” He dares to hope. “That me feeling this, doing any of this, is safe. I trust you. But, I need to be sure that he does, too.”

Tony’s wide eyes stare into his, a little wet. He descends. Giving Bruce everything and Bruce gives back just as much. Their tongues twist and glide against each other, both lost with pure need to taste and feel.

Hips push into Bruce, hard, unrelenting, forcing him to step backward or fall.

Hands fly out to steady himself, grabs Tony’s arms. Feels strong biceps flex underneath when firm hand tightens around his hip to push him back further, harder, until he stumbles into a table.

He moans in pleasure and half question, mouth and tongue still distracted. Curling around Tony’s and then managing to wrap his lips around the other to suck. Showing him what he wants to do to another organ. They still need to test things and do this correctly. Besides, he really wants to make Tony cum.

“Tony.” He tries to say, leaning head back but sweet mouth follows and bites his lip. He grunts, turning head to the side instead. “Tony.” Teeth let go of stretched lip and scrape along his jaw, nipping and sucking. Derailing any thought as a spot behind his ear is found,  “Ton—” low moan and clenching hands reveal what it does to him.

Tony settles there, licking, pulling skin between teeth, using suction with such delicious pressure. Prickling heat tingles down his spine, stomach pulses and swirls at each suck, at the thought of Tony marking him. “Oh, Tone. Ah. Please.”

A soft hum in his skin follow almost frantic noises that tumble out of Bruce, causing vibrations through his throat that consume his mind. Everyone will be able to see it. Will know. 

Gasping, he squirms. Trapped by Tony and the table behind him, feeling Tony’s hand tight on his ass cheek and his hard want pressed into him. He blinks blurry eyes and tries to gulp in some fresh air. “Tony, wait—I want.”

Skin finally released, lips brush along the edge of his ear. “What do you want? Anything, Bruce. Everything. I’ll give you everything.”

“You.”

“You so have me.” A tongue trails around the edge of his entire ear then sucks on the tip.

Whimpering. Why does he expect so many words. “Tony. Please. I want to suck your dick.”

Strangled groan, Tony drops his forehead on Bruce’s shoulder. Firm grip of ass moves to join the other around his hip as they both take a moment to breathe. Chests heaving.

Slowing heart rate down, he blinks more focus. Controlled experiment remember. Though, he shifts his hips and grimaces at the uncomfortable feeling of drying cum, he supposes the first was beyond controlled already.

Lifting his head up, Tony’s intense eyes look at him with set mouth. “Okay. Clothes need to be off. Now.”

Bruce hears the firmness in those gravelled words and hitches a breath.

Hesitating only a moment, he takes liberty at the nonspecific command. Loosens the grip on Tony’s arms, dragging them up to grab the shirt that still hangs on shoulders. Allowing Tony’s wanting—not fearing—dilated eyes to give him courage, he tenses his arms and firmly rips the thin shirt from the collar. Letting it fall to the floor.

He pants and smooths hands along soft, warm skin. Muscles twitch in response to his touch, trailing down firm, almost hairless pecs. Fingers trace small, star-burst scars. Wanting but not daring to move closer towards the centre and the hot ring of metal that surrounds the pure light. He continues down, brushes to his sides with gentle, careful fingers, no real pressure to ensure he doesn’t aggravate the marks.

Skin ends so he hooks fingers over jeans to follow it down, thumbs moving along cloth to meet and circle a button.

Looking at Tony, he finds him breathing deeply with narrowed eyes, as he allows Bruce to touch.

Lips curl up at the man, feeling like he should be bashful but too full of wonder at being able to do this, to have this. Touch. Wanted touch. Skin to skin.

He flicks the button and pulls down the now easy available zip. Licks his lips as he feels hair and heat tickle his fingers. 

Tony sighs softly, and stops him from doing anymore. Thumb stroking across his fingers, one hand pulling his up to soft lips. Brushing from his index, down to palm. Presses a kiss to the padded part below the thumb,  mouth parting to tongue the thenar. Scrapes teeth along it to sensitive wrist.

“You, Bruce.” He releases him and takes a few steps back. Steady eyes watching him. “Strip for me.”

Nervous fingers come to play with the first button of his shirt. He’s not hesitating out of shyness, of Tony seeing him, he’s already seen everything anyway. But stripping in front of him. In his workshop. Told to do it. It brings a certain weight to the moment.

He’s not, entirely, new to this type of thing. It’s been a part of him, a part he’s known about himself, but rarely indulged in.

Betty liked to play a few times. And there was a guy in a dedicated club who had a filthy, demanding mouth while they jacked each other off and watched a public scene.

It feels different with Tony. Natural. Easy. To listen to him. Wanting to be good for him.

Having a moment now, to acknowledge to himself exactly what this, what more, can include. It is nerve-racking and thrilling. Prickling heat between his shoulder blades, settling low in his stomach. 

Swallowing thickly, he focuses on Tony. His dark eyes, his bare skin, the blue light embedded in his chest. Revealed to him completely, he studies the Reactor. The blazing cyan triangle centre, surrounded by softer white-blue, turbine geometric segments, and a smooth silver ring. Prickling heat swirls as dick twitches at the sight. Tony’s genius on full display. Protecting and enticing all at once.

He pants heavily, and flicks buttons out quickly and jerks shirt tails out of his pants. The ultra soft cotton makes him slow down his haste, to carefully roll sleeves down before he peels the shirt off. He then folds and places it on the table behind him with a final stroke.

Wanting to please him, he breathes and finds his courage. He doesn’t believe the sight of him, a bit toned in places, too skinny and boring in others, could turn Tony Stark on in return. But glances at the hardness barely hidden away, at rippling skin with each breath, and trusts Tony’s words. He wants him. So he is willing to pretend. To use what he learnt years ago.

Taking a deep steadying breath, he runs finger tips from throat across to his clavicle, down one side and amongst curls that cover his chest. A nail catches across a dark, sensitive nipple. Making him hiss. He scrapes around it once then flattens his palm on it, rubbing as he moves on, down thin skin across jutting ribs. Fingers then reach and tickle down the central line of thick hair. He follows it, turning his palm vertical so fingers point down, stroking firm abdominal.

Down, down, he dips into thicker curls below jeans. Panting. Wanting. He’d gotten used to not being touched or touching others. That he has not even touched himself. Didn’t want to risk it.

“Oh, yea. I love how hairy you are. All over. Drove me crazy when you walked around on full display. Reaching over to wipe benches. Coming closer to me when I couldn’t touch you. I thought you were doing it on purpose, teasing me. And when you bent down to pick up the bowl.” He groans, sounding in pain. “Fuck, Bruce. How can you not know what you do to me?” Tony squeezes himself through his pants, then unceremoniously pulls his dick free.

Gasping, he licks his lips at the sight and pushes his hand further to brush fingertips across his own dick. Nothing has touched him there for pleasure in years. He feels the absolute mess his pants are inside and blushes deeper.

“Keep going, Bruce. Show me everything.” Halts his hand from touching flesh.

His other hand moves quickly to unfasten his pants button, pulling down zipper. He pulls the gap open and combs his fingers through the revealed thatch of dark hair. Dick straining in jeans with the given space. He removes his hand. Hooking thumbs at his sides, pushing, slowly. Dick tugged down, length beginning to be revealed. He pauses, then gives Tony exactly what he wants. Turns around, hands behind him to stroke lower back and pushes the pants the rest of the way, over his ass.

And bends over the table in front of him.

“Bruce.” Is moaned.

He steps back and rests forehead on cool table as hands remove pants from legs, unlaces shoes. Lifting one leg at a time to free his feet and all remaining clothes. Takes a moment to steady himself with a deep breath. He strokes back up his legs, hair rough on his hands before settling on his ass to palm and squeeze them for a moment. Trying to feel what Tony finds so interesting about it.

Confidence waning, he releases and stands up straight, then turns his head to peek over his shoulder to see Tony’s slackened face and dark eyes. Hand curled tight at his sides.

With teasing, half-lidded eyes. Lips curl. He’s missed this feeling, though duller then it used to be, rusty as he is. “Did I please you, Tony?” slowly biting his lip.

Choked breath, Tony mutters a harsh “Fuck.” Fast steps brings his chest to Bruce’s back. Heated ring pressing into him, causing him to shiver and gasp. Hands cup his ass, grip harsh and pulls them apart, enough that Bruce feels the barest brush of air.

He softly moans, his hole twitching at being exposed.

It took him a long while in his youth to build the courage up to strip. But learnt how much it could tease, entice, and please someone. And how heady that made him feel.

Hands grip tighter, nails digging as Tony groans. “Fuck, you absolute tease, Bruce. Biting that thick lip, stopping yourself but showing me how much you want—it drives me crazy. All I can think about is giving you exactly what you want." His hands release their grip to scrape harsh lines. Bruce shivers as they scratch up and around his sensitive sides. Shifting forward, a hard dick presses into him. Oh, that’s different. "When you were grinding on me, fucking taking what you want, you looked so amazing. And your eyes.” Another groan. “You want to suck me, Bruce? I'd love nothing more than to stretch those lips while you stare up at me with those gorgeous, begging eyes.” 

Moaning at the image and heated flesh, he tilts his ass up to press against it, feeling it glide at the top of his crease.

His hips are roughly gripped and stop him. So tight nails press deep and scratch.

Breath harsh and too fast, he whispers “Tony.”

“I’ll give you what you want, Bruce. What I want. I’ll make you understand that you can have this, deserve this. Okay? However you want.” His voice is fierce and rumbles through Bruce’s ear. Sliding his dick down then up.

A responding rumble in his mind makes him tense. No danger. Please, no. No danger. He forces breath to steady, placing his hands on top of Tony’s. Deep breath, hold. The rumble settles easy and he breathes out a sigh. He gently nudges Tony’s chest with a shoulder and looks at him over it.

“Tony. We need to make sure.”

Gentle nip to his earlobe. “Yes, Dr. Banner.”

His eyes widen at the clench his stomach does hearing that. Oh.

Tony strokes his stomach, as if he knows, could feel it. “It’s your own fault for teasing me like that, though.” Lightly scratches the hair below his belly button, strokes up through the furred line to his chest, before he steps back. “Sex with science. A two for one deal. I do so enjoy how you think.” He chuckles.

Feeling cool air on his bare skin with the loss of heat behind him. He keeps an eye on Tony’s movements as he takes a moment to breathe. Ensure he has control.

Tony strides confidently out of the central hub and toward the only proper chair on the floor. He has a couple of stools that he rolls between worktables, but the one at his wooden desk is the only area with official Stark Industry paperwork, a physical monitor screen, and a black leather office chair. ‘The boring corner’, Tony had despaired to him.

He looks powerful. Sat there now, pants loose around his hips, dick jutting out. One arm lays on a wide-spread leg, the other with elbow pointed on armrest, hand propped under chin. 

Tony Stark, genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist, smirks and raises an expectant eyebrow.

Bruce swallows, then takes a bracing, shuddering breath against the sight straight from his fantasies since that bloody magazine.

“Come on, Bruce. You could make me cum from over there, but we both want something different right now. Isn’t that right?” He is cajoled.

He sways on his feet, numbly nodding his head, and takes a hesitant step.

Tony’s raised hand shifts and strokes a finger along his bottom lip. 

Fast feet now bring him to the edge of Tony’s knees. Looking down at the man, eyes dart from teasing finger near delicious lips to equally teasing hand moving up, across, and then down into pants.

“Well?”  Eyebrow still raised, chin rests on hand again as he cocks his head. The other hand comes back out and releases his balls to frame the standing dick. Loosely fists flesh and strokes it once, slowly. From base to tip.

Soft whimper, knees threaten to give out so he bends them with intention and slowly kneels in front of Tony. Mouth and eyes wide, riveted at the sight of a flushing head peeking out when Tony strokes down. Foreskin pulled taut, then pushed back up to hood and hide it away with another up-stroke.

Licking his lips, wanting to taste. He feels apprehensive, muting the heated pool in his stomach. Putting his hands atop Tony’s covered knees. He rubs them closer, along firm thighs, and moves his head forward with the motion but stops. Panting, wanting, but not knowing what to do. How to please him.

He’s been given blowjobs before, seen it done, knows how it is done, what things can feel good and what doesn’t. But to actually do those things to another. Feels incredibly different. Daunting.

He had all the intentions in the world to return the favour to that random guy in Harvard. But Bruce had cum as soon as his eyes made contact with the very shocked ones of his Astrophysics Professor. And after that and the fact he was graduating soon, he was strongly motivated to find a different university to continue his academic career. So didn’t get the opportunity. And didn't feel brave enough to continue that side of his sexuality. He met Betty within his first year in Culver anyway.

“Bruce?” Softer, hint of concern entering the deep timber of Tony’s once confident and aroused one.

Looking up, his worry must be clear through his bunched eyebrows as Tony stops teasingly stroking and cups his cheek instead. Running a soothing thumb along it.

“What is it?”

Swallowing, the raw scent on the hand is incredible. Richer than what he caught on their way down here. Definitely not cologne. Heady with hints of sweat and something that is pure, musky Tony. Gazing at the hooded dick with neat curls above and smooth balls below. He can feel its heat from here.

Eyes crawl back up to Tony’s face. A thumb strokes his cheek, can probably feel the heating flesh.

Hesitating on his words, he bites his lip.

Brown eyes dilate, face tight with such fierce desire.

He quickly releases his lip with a gasp. “Tony.” Licks them, opens to speak then purses instead. Eyes averting down.

Strong chest heaves, blue light shifting and dancing, momentarily shining straight into Bruce’s face.

Hand on cheek moves into his hair, not tugging but holding his head firm and encouraging it to lean further back as Tony moves down to bring his face to Bruce’s. Consuming his vision.

“Tell me.” Firm, gravel voice. Breath brushing on his cheek.

“I, um.” Eyes look to the side. Garnering a harsh tug. Bruce returns his gaze back to warning brown with a gasp. “I’ve never really..” he trails off.

Gold sparkles back, lips part and shock relaxes Tony’s face. “Never really, what?” He still prompts.

Bruce huffs. Knowing Tony knows what he means. He rolls his eyes at him, blush still lightly prickling skin. “I’ve never done much with, to, a guy before.”

“Is that so?” Amused, eyes crease in delight and darken again.

The look does help calm some of Bruce’s worry. He isn’t disappointed at his inexperience. Still wants him. He gives the man a small, crooked smile. Squeezing hands above Tony’s knees. “I want to try. I just,” He looks to Tony with wide, imploring eyes. “it may take a bit for me to learn.” Please have patience with me. I’ll still make it good.

Pinched eyebrows and a groan is his response. Then a harsh, biting kiss that steals his breath, and a sharp tug of his hair. Before gentling, lips soft and slow, hand combing through the curls, soothing along his scalp.

Parting, Bruce is left gasping at the dual sensations and Tony’s now curled promising smile.

“Telling me a thing like that may not be wise. I can be a selfish man, Bruce.” Still a bit dazed from the kiss, Bruce just softly blinks up at him and hums in question. “Don’t you worry your pretty, curly-haired self about it. Now.” Hand moves to rest on his clavicle, thumb stroking up and down his neck. Tony leans back to sit upright again, not letting go, soft pressure encouraging him to lean forward. “This is an experiment, yes? Well, gather those data points, Dr. Banner.” Tony smirks, other hand coming to prop his chin lightly on his fingers.

Stomach clenches and desire shivers up his spine. Oh right, experiment. He knows how to do that. He squares his shoulders, face relaxing into focus on the task in front of him.

He lets the pressure move him forward, shifting his knees and bring lips close, tasting the heated, musky air. He licks parted lips. But then Tony strokes his skin with his thumb. He leans back. “Wait.”

Tony groans. “Tease.”

Bruce ignores him and the heated pulse down his spine. Hesitates, then glances at the stiff cock and allows both of their wants to set his resolve. He looks up at him, stern lips pursed. “Tony. Controlled, okay? One variable at a time, you—you can’t touch me.” It pains him to say this, but for him to focus entirely on Tony, on giving him pleasure, and also on his own mental response to it. He needs to focus only on that.

Huffing a sigh, Tony stares at him with dark eyes. Then nods. Lifting his hand away, arms up, behind his head, the squeak of leather telling Bruce of the grip hands have taken now.

Assured, Bruce takes a deep breath, and measures his mind. Silent. His eyes fall back to hard flesh and allows the desire to pool within him. He’s really going to do this. A small curl of lips, he slowly drags his hands up Tony’s pants, toward temptation. No danger.

Nose flaring as his face is so close again, he breathes in deep of Tony’s scent. He hums, wanting more. He parts lips and presses a kiss to the skin pulled back the tiniest bit to allow red flesh to poke out.

He licks his lips then bites it at the slight taste. The cock bobs in response, up then down to bump gently on Bruce’s chin, foreskin shrinking down a little more. Pausing, mind still his own.

Smothered moan draws his eyes up for a short moment, taking in Tony’s flexing triceps and fast chest.

Leaning back he lets his nose guide him, brings his face lower. Nuzzling into the alluring scent, nose pressed into soft balls and breathes deep. He moans. Losing his mind a little, he licks the creased balls, tasting salty sweat. He continues up along Tony’s hot shaft. Tongue dragging foreskin up with him and hides the head from him.

Wanting to taste all of him, Bruce snakes his tongue through the hole, stretching the loose skin. Twirls around and tastes the smoother, hotter, origin of a deeper Tony scent. He breathes a moan then brings a hand to steady moving dick and stroke down. Revealing more of that flesh to him.

He laves his tongue on the plush glans, catching on the small urethra opening, curling around the corona edge. Not enough, he wraps his lips around the tip and gently sucks.

Harsh groan and sharp squeak of leather brings his gaze back to search Tony’s face. Concerned he did something wrong. His golden chest heaves with each breath, Reactor light shifting. Tony licks his lips, flicks his almost black eyes up to bare straight into his.

Oh. Wide eyed, Bruce sucks again and twirls his tongue around the head again, flicking between the shallow slit.

Tony’s triceps tense further, intense eyes never leaving, showing him the pulse of pure pleasure.

He pulls off. Needing to gasp in air. His own dick twitching at the rush of desire he feels at seeing, at giving Tony this. Oh, shit. 

Settling his breath, assuring himself that there is no noise or interest from the Other Guy, even with his racing heart beat. He still makes sure to slow it back down.

He blinks and smiles at Tony, then looks back down. His hand stroking up, hooding, then back down to reveal glistening flushed head. He licks his lips at the remembered taste. But keeps that slight distance and watches his hand stroke a few more times, adjusting his grip to squeeze, exploring the feel of the hard, exposed organ.

Thigh tenses under his other hand as he presses thumb on a dorsal vein along the bottom of his dick. He concentrates gentle pressure and traces it. Shudders at Tony’s breathy moan, transfixed as a bead of precum leaks out with a stronger smell.

Needing, wanting. He leans back in, tongue out, and licks across plush flesh to get the drop. Slightly salty, sure, but it’s a little sweet. He hums, wrapping tip in his tasting mouth. Letting tongue cup around the bottom of the head as thumb pushes along the vein, he sucks. Getting another, stronger taste. Interesting. He’s not too sure if he likes it, but he doesn’t dislike it. It is Tony. He hums in thought. More data needed.

“Bruce, fuck.” Tony roughly grits, a hand smacks back down into leather. Apparently having released its grip.

Bruce looks up with concern, not letting go and raises an eyebrow.

Clenched jaw, Tony huffs and then continues to watch him with eyes narrowed.  Thigh flexes under his hand and hips move up a little, pushing the tiniest bit further into Bruce’s mouth.

He keeps eye contact, widening at the scrape of hard flesh across his lips and along his tongue, stretching and pushing. That feels good. He adjusts tight lips to ensure no teeth get involved. He knows that’s not a pleasant feeling.

The pressure on his tongue causes a prickling heat to travel down his spine. He grunts. Encouraged, wanting more, as thigh relaxes. Moving down, pushing the dick along tongue, encasing it in slick warmth, he feels saliva pool.

Stroking his squeezing hand up, he moves it back down with his mouth, fist gentle but tight, as he goes as far down as is comfortable for him to take.

It is difficult, but manages to move his tongue under the flesh in his mouth as the plush tip of the glans now rest close to his soft palate. He hums again, eyes closing as he concentrates on that gentle pressure. His stretched lips and jaw feels a bit uncomfortable. But his mind is clear.

Raising head up, leaving hand where it is as a marker, he swirls tongue then sucks flesh back in but finds his saliva is starting to mask Tony’s taste. He slurps it up, trying to get it back.

Deep groan is squeezed out of throat above him.

He opens his eyes a little and squints up at the man.

“Fuck, baby.” Tony’s head is thrown back, panting. “It’s good, Bruce. I can feel you, testing things out, tasting me. Damn. Keep going.”

He shivers at the praise and assurance he is making it good for him. Yes. He drops his head down then pulls it up quickly, pushing his tongue up to add pressure to the plump dorsal. Desperate for more. He gets what he wants, more of Tony drips in his mouth as the man moans and chair squeaks.

Moaning back, Bruce looses himself in moving up and down. Tight lips meeting hand as plush head glides in his mouth and bumps his soft palate. Drawing back up with pressing tongue, he sucks with the tip wrapped tight in his lips, then loosens and glides back down.

Rhythm isn’t steady as he focuses on getting position right, losing his grip and scraping a bit too hard along his palate a couple of times. But soon. He settles. Knees spreading to keep his balance as he moves in response to the noises Tony makes.

Steady, panting groans tumble out, forming deep in Tony’s throat. Encouraging him further. “Bruce.” Hand smacks back to chair. Leather squeak. “Baby.” Harsh gasp. Feet shuffling along floor. Thigh tensing but hips remain put. “So good.”

It gets messy, the seal and suction of lips not enough to contain spit for long. Wetting his squeezing hand, making his grip a little harder to maintain. His hand slips down, mouth falling a bit too far and bumping flesh into his throat.

He reflexively chokes, lifting his head back up but Tony shouts, jerks his hips up and causes him to actually choke.

He lifts his head off completely and coughs, catching his breath.

“Shit. Bruce.” Tony pants. Bruce looks up at him with watery eyes as he heaves air. “Are you okay?” He’s released the chair behind his head, hands hovering near Bruce’s face.

Nodding, he focuses on breathing. Swallows to gauge how his throat feels. A little tender but not too bad. He looks at the shiny dick, hard and twitching in front of him. Breath under control, and, shockingly but gratefully no noise from his mind, he relaxes. No danger. It’s okay. Safe. He can have this. At the very least. He can have this.

He leans back in but Tony stops him. “Wait. Bruce, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

His dick twitches, pooling desire in his stomach clenches and swirls up warm and tight in his chest. Oh, shit. You’re in trouble, Banner. He looks up at Tony with wide eyes, feels the mess around his lips drying. Sucks his bottom lip, getting a hint of that intoxicating taste of the man who is worried about him. Him. He whimpers. Hips rocking, hard dick swaying in the air, desperate for attention.

Tony groans, hands clenching then shooting to the arm wrest’s to grip them instead.

Freeing lip with a gasp, Bruce feels conflicted. So far. The experiment has been a success. Can he add more variables—Yes. He is desperate. Bruce looks into Tony’s dilated eyes as he takes shuddering breaths and leather tightens next to him. They both are.

Decision between which variable to add is made for him.

He strokes Tony’s slicked, heated flesh. Building back the rhythm. Squeezing up, loosening but pressing thumb along vein as he goes down. He watches balls get pulled up a bit on the next stroke up, saliva trickling down to them. He leans forward, turns his head to the side and follows the messy trail to lick the wrinkled skin there. Sucks as much of one into his mouth, licking and gently swirling the heated sack around in his mouth.

He releases it after Tony shouts, straining chair under the pressure of his hands. Then presses wet kisses from the other, up shaft, around moving hand, to swirl around the dribbling head. Oh. That taste. He sucks flesh back in and moves other hand to cup the twitching sack, gently squeezing balls together.

They are so soft and hot, and the noises that stutter out of Tony’s throat are hypnotic.

He then swallows the pooling saliva, adding rhythmic pressure with his strokes, searching for more of Tony’s taste and sounds.

“Such a hot mouth, Bruce. What you do to me.” Tony grits out with strangled moans. “You’re so good, baby. I want to keep you there forever, you look amazing. Fuck! Yes, squeeze my balls. That’s it. I’m re-naming this corner. This is the blowjob corner. You can—oh, oh, yes. Your tongue, do that again.”

Humming in pleasure at making Tony act like this, shivering at the praises. At the not quite commanding directions. He does as Tony says, flicking his tongue across urethra then around and under the left side of the corona, pressing up against a spot there.

“Shit! Oh, you can do this anytime. I want this, every time I have to do boring work, I want you here, on your knees.” Tony babbles on, sounding a little delirious. “Feel your mouth and clever tongue. See your dark, curled head moving up and down. Yes. Bruce, yes. I want everything, baby. I swear you—”

With one last harsh suck, gaining a mumbling groan around unformed words. Bruce pulls off. Slowing his hand and then tickles a finger between balls to exaggerate the crease between them, stroking that soft skin. Tony gasps and rolls his head back on the chair. Neck stretched and tendons taught under skin.

Swallowing all the excess spit and precum in his mouth, Bruce eyes the messy dick and assures himself of his controlled grip even with the added slick.

He breathes, measures his mind one last time then grins as a warmth lightens in his chest.  

Firmer stroke between balls, he pushes Tony’s dick down a little to make it rest just below his mouth as he breathes in that delicious scent. Looks up at the gorgeous, amazing man giving him this. “Tony.”

Tony instantly looks down at him with dazed eyes.

Bruce’s lips part and runs a tongue across the bottom. “Tony. I want.”

Pupil blackened eyes widen then narrow. “What? What do you want?” Rushes out of him.

“I want.” Come on, Banner. What happened to that courage. Tony wants it, too. He blinks then half closes them to gaze up through lashes. “I want you to touch me.” Then bites his lip. Half intentional, half nervous and reprimanding himself at dare wanting—asking, such a thing.

Dick jerks and beads a thicker white drop with a harsh groan, as Tony’s hands instantly fly to his head, fingers comb through and gently tug his hair.

Not wasting any time, he allows himself a moment to gasp and breathe in that rich scent, before descending down. Taking Tony back into his mouth, he bobs a few times, making sure he is comfortable with the amount and barrier of his hand, getting a little lost in the exquisite pressure moving along his tongue and gentle touch pressing into his head with each raise. A haziness flickers across his mind, familiar but different all at once. Assuring him of what kind of touch he really wants.

Pausing, he swirls around the tip, licking along the tight line of foreskin below it then stays there. Letting jaw relax and mouth not suctioning. He waits.

Hands in his hair release and clench then tugs sharply, making him moan and own dick twitch. Tony moans in response and hand firmly cups the back of his head. Yes. 

Breathing through his nose, Bruce pushes his tongue under the corona to the left and sucks, tight, then relaxes. Waiting. 

“Bruce.” Tony tightly groans in his throat, one hand pressing into the back of his head while the other loosens and strokes through his hair on top then grips it. “You’re a tease.”

Yes, he is. He gazes up Tony’s rippling abs with each harsh breath, into deep black eyes. And he wants. He raises an eyebrow and nudges back into the hand on his head, turns it to make the tight grip tug on his hair. Moaning. Then waits. Staring at him with wide eyes. I want it, Tony. Please. Make me good.

Tony blinks, jaw bulging as he clenches and eyebrows furrow. He grips and pushes Bruce’s head down a little with one hand, then tugs him back up with the other. Eyes watching.

Hips jerk in the air as he whimpers and eyes lid again, locked onto Tony’s. Yes.

Harsh, teeth-bared grin. Hand pushes his head down, forcing dick and pressure to glide in slowly, before he tugs up sharp and quick. Tony controls him for a few, sweet bobs. Bruce sucking and moaning. It feels so good. Being controlled like this, giving Tony this. Haziness creeps in, sweet at the edges. 

He’s suddenly pulled off, he gasps at the loss. His head is held firm as he breathes and blinks at Tony.

“Lick.”

Eyes wide, he does as he’s told. Just able to reach, he flicks and swirls around the edge, scrapes through slit along the urethra. As he strokes along the bottom edge again, his head is pushed down. He quickly puts top teeth behind lip and tries to suck as soon as flesh is wrapped.

Hard tug and sharp, “No.”

Whimpering he stops. Letting the dick just be held in his mouth.

“That’s it. Good boy.”

He keens, hips and dick jerking, his hand resting on balls shoot to the side to tightly clench Tony’s thigh, bunching jeans. That hazy feeling settles, shoulders relaxing and mind dulling to just Tony. Tony.

Tony tugs his head back up, pushes down, twisted up, down. Yes. He’s lifted and jerked back again, tongue quickly stretches out to remain on flesh as he licks and looks up with blurry eyes.

Soft sigh. “Oh, aren’t you a sweet thing. I am going to absolutely wreck you.” Pressure glides back in, scraping along his palate, further down till lips meet his other hand wrapped around hot, pulsing flesh.

Held there, he focuses on breathing and feels saliva pool. Not told to suck, he lets it drip and seep out. Feeling it trail down his fingers. He adjusts his hand a bit tighter.

Softly moaning, Tony pulls him up then pushes him down, setting a slow, loose rhythm.

“That’s it, so good for me.”

Bruce whimpers. Lost in the sensations of stinging scalp and delicious pressure moving in and out of his mouth. Of hot, hard flesh in his hand. Of Tony using him for his pleasure. Being good for him. He whines and shivers, hand around jeans tightening then loosening to brush up and touch skin. Gentle along the crease between thigh and hips.

Lifted off entirely, he’s then tilted and pushed down so his chin hits cool zipper. Lips brush on soft skin. Told to suck. Fitting as much of one ball in, he does, making wet, squelching pops and harsh groans fall from above.

A hissed “Yes.” He’s moved, panting, to the other one to give it the same attention. “Oh, yes.” Harsh tug on his scalp makes him moan around his mouthful. “Fuck!” Tony shouts. Hips jerking up in the chair, making his dick grind along Bruce’s face. Wetness smeared on his forehead.

His head is then lifted again, he trails his tongue up the hard flesh with the movement.

“Oh, shit. Suck me, baby.”

Lips wrap around head and sucks. Hard.

Tony moans and jerks his hips up, pushing further into Bruce’s mouth, pressing his swirling tongue down. His hand holds Bruce’s head there, dick grinding into soft sensitive palate, making Bruce moan at the consuming pressure all in his mouth and on his head.

He grips Tony’s hip, just to feel the muscles flex and move. Groaning at the smooth, taught strength.

Hand gripping his top curls releases, he whimpers at the loss. Fingers scrape on his forehead and then trace around his tight lips, adding to the mess  dribbling out of him. “Look at you.” Tony moans.

He sucks, trying to swallow but feels it just leak more out of him. He feels his cheeks hollow in as he continues to try. Pushes tongue up and around, searching for that plumped vein.

Slurping, the hand returns and grips tight, pulling him up fast. He’s then pushed deep and hard, nose bumping into his fist-tight hand. He grunts, loosens his fist, adjusting then squeezing.

“I’ve got you. Stroke me, Bruce.” Tony’s voice is firm, promising.

Bruce whimpers, trusting, moving his fist down and up as his head is pulled and pushed. Oh, shit. He shivers, own hips constantly swaying in the air. He wants to move closer, to grind on something, on Tony’s leg again, anything to relieve him. But. He groans, hair tugged sharp to lift him up, he sucks and swirls his tongue.

Tony touching, controlling him, is the better variable.

Head is turned, grinding dick harder into his mouth. He hums in question as he is moved to jab tip into his cheek and stopping his tongues movements, careful to keep his jaw open and teeth away. Tony thrusts hard and fast a few times, with harsh grunts, stretching his mouth before twisting him and holding his head steady to grind up into his palate. Then pushing just a bit further down to tickle his uvula, lifting his head up then down again, slowly, carefully, exquisitely. His throat constricts, making small noises as it reflexively swallows around nothing. But it never reaches too far, doesn’t hurt, just fills and tickles then releases. Oh, that feels good.

Hand gripping Tony’s thigh slackens as the one stroking him moves firmer, wanting more, anything, just more. His dick pulses with an aching pressure but is left wanting. Not important. Tony. Tony’s pleasure. Tony’s hands, dick, taste. Yes. Please.

He moans, squeezing fist, sucking hard and long. Making Tony shout and grip his hair tighter, shooting those sweet tingles down his spine. He shivers and moans again with swirling tongue.

Pushed and pulled, bobbing in Tony’s lap faster, matching his hands’ speed to it. “That’s it, Bruce. So good for me. Taking it—so good.” Tony groans, grinding hips up to scrape harshly along Bruce’s tongue. Head lifted up and held, throbbing lips tight around tip. “Use that smart tongue of yours.”

Grunting, he flicks his beginning to tire tongue around the plump head. Scraping through slit and back around, pushing up into that spot on the left. Tony moans and clenches his hair so hard it hurts. But still nothing. No danger. Safe. He stops to gasp, loving the slight ache in his jaw. The pain at his scalp pulses hot and thick to his dick. Oh. That’s new.

“Touch my balls.”

He moves his other hand. Fondling and squeezing, feeling the skin around sack pull up and tighten. He’s close. Yes, yes. Bruce moans, slurping, tongue pressing and rolling around that spot. Desperate for more of Tony’s taste, wanting that pure—him.

Tony moans, hips thrusting up, dick thrust in and out, the chair banging into the desk behind him.

Hands quickly lift his head up and jerk it back on his neck.  

Bruce gasps for breath, lips forced away, eyes shooting open to stare up at Tony’s beautifully tight face. “Please, Tony.” He wants it. Hand still moving fast, squeezing and twisting, thumb pressing into vein and playing with the loose then tight foreskin. “Please.” He whimpers.

Blackened eyes close with a groan then stare down at him with such ferocious intensity. Bruce’s balls clench, dick pulses and cool air blows across a now wet tip. Fuck. He bites his lip and hoods his eyes in pure want.

Gritted teeth bare down at him. “Open.” Rough command. Firm hand keeping his head pulled back, the other cups his chin and fingers grip his cheeks 

Eyes wide he parts his lips open.

“Wider.”

He whimpers, opening his mouth wide.

“That’s it. Stay just like that. Uh uh, keep that hand moving—good boy.”

Body shivers hard as he whines with his mouth held open. Hand tight and pumping fast along the hard, pulsing flesh, other hand sporadically squeezing and rolling the heated sack.

Tony keeps one hand tight in his hair and other now gently strokes his face, thumb moving to his bottom lip. Softly commands, “Tongue.”

He licks at the thumb and leaves it stretched out.

Moan is met by Tony’s own rough moan as he pulls Bruce’s head just close enough to rest the tip of his dick on his exposed tongue.

Not told to do anything, he just pants across it and remains motionless. His stroking hand bringing foreskin along, pushing out drops of precum and then exposing sensitive glans to the tasting organ.

Temptation too much, he suctions his tongue under the glans.

Tony groans, balls tightening even more in Bruce’s hand. He then moves Bruce’s head back and forth, scraping his tongue across him. His eyes glaze, own mouth panting open as he stares down at Bruce knelt before him.

With a final breathy moan, eyes flutter, face relaxing as balls tighten impossibly further, pulling up close to the dick that pulses and throbs in Bruce’s hand. Then sweet, bitter heat shoots across Bruce’s taste buds. Dick twitching across his tongue as Tony cums.

Wanting to be good, Bruce keeps his mouth still. Oh, that taste. Hand slows and slackens its grip, as he lets the thick strings shoot and pool on his tongue. One is sent across to the left along his cheek with an especially hard jerk of Tony’s dick. He whimpers at the loss. 

Shuddering, Bruce wants so bad. The pooling, thick liquid swirls in his mouth, coating every inch. It’s bitter, and sweet, and deeply musky. Tony. He whines, mouth unwilling to move to form the word aloud.

“Bruce.” Tony inhales sharply, thumb on his cheek swiping along and dragging the cum to his bottom lip under his still, held out tongue.

It twitches down, wanting it all but not wanting to spill what's already in his mouth. He whimpers, looking at Tony with wide eyes. Please.

Sharp groan, Tony pushes his tongue up and in. “You can swallow it, Bruce. Fuck.” He leaves his thumb there and makes Bruce’s lips wrap around it as he swallows.

Hands fall to rest on Tony’s thighs, squeezing and eyes closing as he relishes in the taste sliding down his throat. Oh. He likes it. He definitely likes it. It’s not a good taste, but he likes it. Eyes blink open and stare at the slowly softening organ in front of him. Foreskin hiding away flushed head. He sucks on the thumb in his mouth and swallows again, more saliva than cum now but still with the taste of Tony.

Thumb presses down, disrupting the suction then pulling out.

Bruce hums and licks his lips, savouring as he sits back on his folded legs and hazily lays his head on Tony’s warm thigh. Tony’s hand releases his hair to stroke gently, soothing the tingling scalp. He hums again. Mind swirling as he just breathes. “Tony.”

“Bruce.” Wet thumb returns to lips and softly strokes them. 

Sensitive, blood tingling lips part, allowing it to do whatever, letting Tony do whatever he wants. His stomach clenches and dick twitches in the air. He whimpers.

Tony shushes him, thumb moving and fingers joining to run lightly along his exposed cheek. Up and around his eyebrow, then back down, along jaw and across neck. Softly murmuring, “You were so good, Bruce. I’ve got you, baby. I’ll make you understand you can have this, you deserve this. You say I deserve everything? Oh, sweet boy. You deserve so much more. And I will make sure you get it, Bruce. I promise.” Fingers trail back up and hand cups his jaw as the other continues to comb and play with his curls.

He sighs softly and allows his mind to drift. Feeling light and good. He softly smiles and rubs his cheeks between Tony’s jeans and calloused hand, senses surrounded and consumed by Tony. Taste’s his sweetly-bitter cum, smells his heady-musk scent, hears his deep timbre voice. Feels his warm and wonderful touch.

So good. Safe.

When mind slowly begins clearing and focusing again, he blinks blurry eyes. Feels his dick throb, expressing it’s want for attention. He’s had years of practise and easily ignores it as he swallows and lifts his head up to stare into Tony’s warm eyes.

“Hey, with me?” He softly smiles down at him.

Bruce mirrors the smile back, feeling relaxed and body loose. “With you.” He promises. Shifting his feet under his ass, his knees express their displeasure being in that position for so long on hard flooring. He winces and uses Tony’s thighs to help stand.

Hands move to his sides to assist and balance him as he sways. “Take it easy, Bruce. You feel okay?”

He nods at Tony now looking up at him, large eyes creased near the corners. He shivers at the concern for him. Hard dick twitching and drawing those eyes to the movement.

Tony then smirks, hands tightening their grip on his hips. “I’m counting that as a resounding success for experiment 1b. Would you concur, Doctor?”

Huffing with an amused quirk to lips. “Yes, Mr. Stark. The Other Guy had no interest. Even when you choked me and tried to rip my hair out.” He cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Yea. Did not mean to do that. Especially for a first-timer, that was very bad blowjob etiquette. In my defence, I think you literally sucked my brains out. And don’t pretend like you don’t like the hair pulling.” White teeth and pink lips grin wide at him.

Shaking his head he rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the blush heating his cheeks. He would doubt the man’s honesty, but from the sounds he was making, it’s hard for his mind to convince him that Tony wasn’t thoroughly pleased with his efforts. And when he took over. He licks his lips, stomach clenching as he recalls the feeling.

“Now.” Hips tugged closer. “Time for the next experiment.”

Bruce gulps, eyes wide and breath quickening. Tony stares up at him with dark eyes. “How do you want to proceed, Dr. Banner?” His eyes narrow on Bruce’s dick as he says that and smirks fiercely when it twitches and beads. “Shall I return the favour? I could probably deep throat you.” He turns a critical eye on his flesh.

Bruce gasps and feels his stomach clench tight, dick building. He jerks his hips forward, wanting anything, any touch. It won’t take much.

Eyes crawl back up and stare into his with such promise. “I could teach you that. I could make you into my perfect little cocksucker.”

Spine shivering, he pants, tasting Tony on his breath. He whines at the taste and remembered feeling of him in his mouth. His dick throbs and balls tighten in a sweet clench with his stomach.

“Yea? You like that, baby? On your knees, hot mouth filled with my thick flesh. Keeping it warm and hard, for hours. Or on your back, as I slide straight down your tight throat, balls resting on your nose. I noticed you smelling me, imagine how much my scent would smother you like that.”

Shit. “Please. Tony.” He dazedly stares at him, eyes catching on the light in his chest. The Reactor moving up and down with each steady breath. Clean energy, pure power, created by this brilliantly, filthy man. Bruce sways on his feet and flings hands out to grab anything. Finding soft, thick hair.

Tony hums. “Come on, Dr. Banner. Controlled experiment, right? What are the variables this time?”

Fingers twitch in his still perfectly stylised hair and fall away. “Tony.” He pants out. Eyes squinting, desperate as his dick throbs and aches. He knows the variable he wants right now. “Tony, I want.” Wants those strong hands that made such brilliance. “Touch me.” He bites his lip, eyes locked onto pulsing blue as Tony groans and hands tighten, then move around to squeeze his ass. He whimpers. “Touch me, please.” His dick throbs.

“I am.” Tony has the audacity to chuckle. “If you want something, all you have to do is say, Bruce. I’ll always give it to you.”

He whines. “Tony. Touch my dick with your brilliant, skilled hands. Damn it, it’s been years. Tony, I want to feel—I want. Ah!” He shouts and jerks his hips into the fist now around his dick. Yes, finally.

Dick pulses, stomach clenching as Tony strokes him. A thumb glides across his tip and then fist twists and squeezes. “This what you want?”

Whispered, “Yes.” Heat swirls around his spine and pressure builds quickly with each stroke and glide.

Balls are then cupped and squeezed, “Here?” tugged down and the pressure pulses, dick aching with it, stomach rippling. His hips jerk forward as Tony’s hand tightens.

“Yes.”

Flesh catches on rough callouses but smoothly glide through flesh with how much precum has already leaked out of him. Thumb plays with the edge of his glans, gently scraping a short nail along it. “What about...here?” He shivers and thrusts mindlessly, gasping as fingers grasp and pull an ass cheek apart to expose him and tickle the hair—

“Yes!” He yells, body bending forward and hands gripping on to firm wide shoulders as pressure releases and shoots out of him. He watches his flushed dick be stroked by Tony’s hand, forcing out translucent lines. Shot out onto chest, dripped down onto soft, exposed dick below him. Leaks around still stroking fingers, making him moan and whimper. The sweet pressure still building and releasing with an almost painful tight, unrelenting squeeze from his balls. Another line shoots out and splashes across blue triangle.

He keens loud in his throat. No. Mind gone, he bends further down disrupting Tony’s hands as he frantically cleans up that mark. He gently scrapes tongue across glass encasing pure energy. Then around the metal ring flush with skin. It’s so hot, it almost burns. There's a soft hum from the centre but he doesn’t feel any movement. His tongue glides and tingles around and across. Satisfied it’s clean, he shudders through a final clenching pleasure then slides, ungracefully, to sit on the floor between Tony’s legs. His hands shooting behind him to catch him from falling back into a boneless heap. He stares at the ceiling and gasps for breath.

“Holy shit, Bruce.” Tightly groaned.

He rolls his head down and looks into Tony’s wide eyes. Rakes gaze down his chest, thick lines trailing down the skin around a perfectly clean, glistening Arc Reactor. An absolutely coated hand still held out. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut at the sight. Feels his balls ache.

“You’ve covered me, do you always cum so much?” His dick twitches, making him whimper. Twice is surely his limit. He lifts heavy lids to look at Tony’s face. He didn’t sound upset by it but—oh. He gasps as Tony rubs the hand up abs to pecs, coating his skin more. “I knew you were interested in the Reactor, how it works, but that’s not it, is it?” Brown eyes stare down at him, moving fingers around metal.

A dirty finger goes to trail across it. “No.” Bruce gasps, halting the movement.

Smirking with eyebrow raised, finger traces around metal and flesh again. “No?”

He swallows and feels heat flush his now slower chest. A final, deep breath, he looks up from teasing finger. “Don’t, Tony.” His voice is firm, as firm as he ever lets himself be anymore. But this is important.

Pink lips part, pupils dilating.

“Don’t taint perfection.”

Tony’s eyes narrow, “Not taint. Just,” lips pull in a smirk, “mark me entirely. Make me yours.”

Bruce shivers, stomach clenching at the thought. But. No. Finger moves to scoop a wet line then brings it back toward blue light. No! Teeth clenched, he shoots to his feet and hand grips the wrist, planting it firmly away and down on the arm wrest as he glares into darkening eyes. He plants a knee on the chair, pushing gently forward into exposed balls till Tony gasps. He leans his face close to Tony’s now panting one. “No.” He whispers.

Tony audibly gulps then nods. “Okay.”

He glares at him for a moment longer then relaxes. Releasing his grip and standing back up, a chill enters his stomach as he feels bereft at himself. “Sorry. I’m serious Tony. That’s not something I can have, or do, to you. To your brilliance.” Vision is entranced by the light again. “It’s too good. I don’t wan—it’s too—” He sighs and looks away. The chill pulses up his chest and aches. He doesn’t. He can’t. Not like that. He has given in to this, to feel this and give Tony this, because Tony wants it, so he can have it, try to, anyway. But that? He shakes his head and sighs again. “I can’t have more than this, Tony.”

A hand grabs his, a safer place to look. “Bruce Banner. You can. I promise.” Tony sighs, standing up, other hand stroking up his arm to cup his cheek. “You’ll figure it out. I’ll make you understand.”

Eyebrows furrowed he looks up from entwining fingers. “Understand what?”

Dark, serious eyes just look at him. Then smiles at him softly, “I need a shower. Then what do you say to round two?”

Wide eyes and brows scrunching in pain. “Tony, I don’t think I’m up to another round right now. I haven’t cum in years, and twice so soon. I—I  honestly think I pulled something. I might need at least mm—”

Tony kisses him, gently, sweetly, then pulls away, “I meant round two of science. Just science.” He gazes at Bruce with soft, sparkling eyes, thumb stroking his cheek. Then shakes his head. “You noticed something on the blueprints, right? I want to hear your thoughts. That’ll be enough foreplay for me. For a little while, anyway.” Cheeky grin and wink.

Sighing, he curls his lips in a lopsided smile. Then mind flicks back to what he saw, he looks over at the still displayed blueprints. “Oh, yes. The ankle." He takes a step closer to the central hub. "Tony that didn’t look—I may need to see the actual suit, see you in the boot. Do you notice any tightness when you fly?”

“Uh uh. Shower first, Brucie. I don’t know about you but dried cum is only hot for so long before it gets real uncomfortable.” Tony saunters off to a glass door. “Hey, that’s a fourth one. Four S’s now.” He looks over his shoulder with cocked eyebrow. “Doctor, I do believe I need your help to clean up again.” Pink lip juts out. “My burn was aggravated, I won’t be able to wash myself. Touch me, Bruce?” He flutters his lashes.

His dick makes a valiant attempt at hardening again, but just aches sweetly. He numbly nods and body moves before his mind. “Of course. However I can help.”