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FIC: HOW MANY SCIENTISTS DOES IT TAKE, Part 5
Title: How Many Scientists Does it Take to Screw in the Stark Tower?
Fandom: Avengers
Pairing: Tony Stark/Bruce Banner
Rating: M, this part is pretty much all smut.
Word Count: 2,666
Status: Chapter 5 of ?
Summary: Honestly, Bruce hadn't gone into this looking to form any lasting attachments - if he was honest with himself, he knew better.
Bruce's arms and shoulders quickly settle into soreness, but he feels good anyway. Tony notice his stiffness after dinner, makes a thoughtful noise and fetches something from a drawer. It seems to be a thick string, interspersed with four plastic capsules which Bruce takes at first for beads. Two of them turn out to be halves of a snap-clasp, similar to a breakaway catch on a dog collar but rounded.
"I got sore too when I first started," Tony explains, leaning over the back of Bruce's chair and nudging the back of his head with his knuckles to get him to lean forward. "So I designed this. Those regular ones are kind of a quack, but magnetic pain therapy has a good basis. This one has rare-earth magnets in it."
He clips it in place and it seems to activate. Bruce can almost feel the magnets pulling to each other through him, against his sore collar bone. There's a soft noise as the plastic clasp collides with the metal edge of Tony's reactor, magnetized.
Bruce reaches up instinctively to pull it away and changes his mind at the last second. He tangles his hand in Tony's shirt - soft, old, and well-worn - and takes advantage of his forward angled lean to yank him over the back of the chair down over his shoulder and into his lap. The chance to ruin Tony's dignity a little and see the shocked expression on his features is worth the risk of his displeasure, which is not remotely the result.
Bruce thought it wouldn't be. He's smart but his intelligence isn't as lightning fast as Tony's. He'd spent almost a week on this puzzle, but finally realized that in order to get Tony where he wanted him, at least in this regard, he would have to assert himself and make the man's mind shut down, just a little. So, having the momentary advantage, he presses it.
He pushes one hand over Tony's sternum, the heel of it lifted to avoid pressing too hard on any delicate equipment. The other goes straight down, palming with more assurance over the expensive fabric at the join of Tony's legs. Bruce finds him already responding, hears the dry click of his throat as he swallows instinctively, preparatory to opening his mouth to pull in more air. He doesn't miss how dark and reflective Tony's eyes have gone, trying to express some complex combination of emotions.
Bruce can't quite sort them all out, but he can tell how much Tony is interested. He cups his hand and pushes the palm of it firmly over Tony's growing erection and watches the pull of tendons in Tony's neck when he swallows again and pulls air in, hissing. The position is awkward, Tony half laid out over Bruce's lap, but it leaves Tony completely accessible while making reciprocation (and therefore distraction) difficult.
Tony's already starting to shift, trying to get them into a better position, so Bruce pushes harder on his chest. He doesn't exactly know if this - whole thing, really, is okay but while he has the edge he takes advantage of it. Tony's an adult, capable of protesting something he doesn't want and he's not so afraid of Bruce - of the other guy, really - that he wouldn't object. So Bruce presses him in place and finally kisses him, taking advantage of his open, panting mouth.
The noise Tony makes into it isn't protest, it's half challenge and the rest encouragement. Bruce takes a liberty with Tony's zipper, and it's probably one of the most ridiculous milestones Bruce has ever counted, conquering it, but - it was harder than it should have been between his nerves and Tony's attitude.
Bruce curls his fingers around skin, but he keeps both his hand and Tony's hard on in the confines of the man's pants, stroking with this limited range of movement until Tony's ready to surrender.
"They come off. They're detachable," it's not a complaint, exactly, but it is breathy and Tony's tipped his head back, well on his way to complete surrender.
"Your pants?" Bruce guesses, affecting ignorance of exactly how much easier their movements would be without the constraint.
"I'd like them off," Tony agrees.
"That makes two of us," Bruce punctuates his words with just enough of a squeeze on his next stroke that Tony can't respond straight away, but he's obviously having trouble trying to figure out why he's still wearing them if they both want them off. Victory.
"So-" Tony starts sharply, halfway demanding, and Bruce stops, warns him with the threat that he'll stop what he's doing entirely, and Tony gets the idea without Bruce having to say anything. Instead he takes a shaky breath and changes his tone. "Please."
Bruce isn't about to make Tony crawl or anything (though when he thinks about it, he might be able to), but that feels pretty good. He's been given control of the whole situation that way, and he knows he's capable. He tries to help Tony with his pants, but by this point all he does is get two good hand holds at the waistband and Tony contorts his way out of them and into a more upright position in Bruce's lap.
"Yeah," Tony agrees, when Bruce looks up at him, before the question is even asked. "Better."
Bruce already knows most of Tony, and the rest is new but not out of alignment with the rest of his figure. There are old scars that trail low on his belly, probably shrapnel, and then dark pubic hair that seems to be only exactly where it's appropriate to be and nowhere else, giving him a cleaner look. Also he's hard as hell and settling his weight pointedly over Bruce's thighs.
Taking the hint, Bruce swipes his tongue over his thumb roughly and reaches down to stroke again. He can feel how every motion affects Tony, translated through the proximity of their legs and how Tony's muscles tense (when Bruce pauses at the base of his shaft) and tremble (as his fingers draw near the head). Bruce curls his free hand around Tony's hip and presses his thumb into the skin behind the protective jut of hipbone, bearing down on the pressure point with just enough force that Tony won't be able to ignore it. Tony draws in a sharp breath and it's like turning off the switch that censors some of his thoughts from finding his voice.
"That's new," he murmurs, twisting his body and dropping his cheek onto Bruce's shoulder so the intimate tone can't be missed, spoken just into Bruce's ear as it is. "You can press a little - nnh. Yeah. Harder."
His voice changes and his hips surge into the motion when Bruce anticipates the request. Tony's voice continues, broken by entreaties or expletives.
"You have rougher hands than I'd have guessed. Noticed when we shook but - god, that's incredible," Tony continues, almost nonsensically. Bruce doubts he even realizes he's speaking, that's probably lost somewhere between dull pain and pleasure. "I love it when you assert yourself. When you're not only in control, you're letting yourself feel like you are. Can be a little rougher if you like. Let me feel it."
Bruce somehow understands that Tony is utterly fascinated with Bruce's ability to be in control. It's more than a little funny - except where it stings. He strokes harder, and Tony's voice goes quiet for only a moment. Bruce can still feel him forming words against his shoulder, and he makes a frustrated noise of his own. He slides his hand back from Tony's hip, suddenly wanting. He shows Tony his rough edges, pushing his index and middle fingers against Tony's anus, rubbing a circle. He has control enough to deal with the other guy every second of his life, he can take Tony at his wildest.
And somehow, that's what Tony wants.
"Yeah, Bruce - that it? The edge? I don't think so. I think we can go a little-" Tony groans mid sentence, reaching down between them with some reserve of presence of mind , sliding the flat of his hand against Bruce's erection where he finds it encumbered in Bruce's pants. "Further. But not - without-"
"Where?" Bruce asks, forceful - surprised at his own tone, but not the way Tony responds to it, jerking like an electric current surged through him and trying to push faster into Bruce's grip. Bruce uncurls his fingers and lifts his hand to splay at Tony's collar bone, pushing him back until their eyes can meet. Tony actually manages half a lopsided and daring grin, but something in Bruce's attitude hurries him past any chance of playful challenge.
"My pocket," Tony answers, but he's already reaching for it, keeping his hand on Bruce. It's just like Tony to produce it casually from the pocket of his dress shirt, in a hurry and without any flourish. It's single use with a tear-to-open design. Bruce's hands are busy.
"Open it," he tells Tony, and Tony's response is half interrupted by the application of his teeth to the notched corner.
"You're this distracting and you want me to open it? Okay this might be about to get a little bit - damp." But he doesn't spill it very far. If Bruce times a stroke to see if Tony - and his running mouth - can cope with it, it's only a little vindictive. The responding instinctive tightening of Tony's fingers covers his hand with lube.
"Well, that's good enough." Tony decides, and reaches back, lifting himself. The transfer of possession is sloppy, with Tony passing the leaking packet into Bruce's applied hand directly and more or less wiping the rest of it from his fingers onto Bruce's. "This is... messy. And hilarious."
Bruce doesn't bother responding. When his fingers are slick enough he reapplies them to what they were doing, pushing and seeking entrance this time, slickly and without any teasing.
Tony's whole focus changes with the unspoken request and he stops talking for just long enough to drop his still-slick fingers onto the hand Bruce still has on his cock. He stops the rhythm, tightening his fingers on Bruce's wrist to convey his point and then-
Tony just opens for him, straightening his back and unerringly relaxing every muscle until Bruce's fingers slide all the way home. Every ounce of blood in Bruce's body seems to surge downward suddenly and if he's ever wanted anything more than Tony Stark at this moment he's having trouble remembering it.
"Only as impossible as I want to be," Tony breathes into his ear, and Bruce decides to be surprised later, instead curling his fingers and hooking them toward Tony's front until he can almost see the stars Tony must be, can feel the whole shock of it through Tony's body.
"You're right," Tony gasps, "Now is - good. Now is great."
He's undoing Bruce's zipper in needy, mindless movements, threatening to catch sensitive flesh in zipper teeth, but Tony's past caring. Prudently, Bruce helps, gets the button. Tony's hands move out of the way and come back with a condom. Bruce doesn't comment on how good of an idea it was for Tony to use his teeth on the package.
"You're gorgeous and you act like you aren't," Tony's saying, his voice higher and tighter with tension. "I thought maybe you knew and you'd forgotten, but maybe you never did. And this is impressive, too."
Tony's slick-fingered stroke is demonstrative. Direct. Bruce groans, and then takes the situation back.
"God, yes." Tony is only mouthing the words but Bruce feels them against his chest. He stretches more slowly around the girth of Bruce's cock but still with enough ease that it can't be hurting him. "Right like that."
Tony doesn't let him stay still for long, he's starting to lift himself almost as soon as they settle, one arm curled lazily, but with evidence Tony's strength, around Bruce's shoulder and neck. The other is what Tony's putting his teeth into when he's not talking. Bruce gets both hands on Tony's hips and pulls him down sharply, holds him still.
"Okay - I'm in a rush," Tony agrees, almost conversationally. Bruce isn't sure where his mind is exactly. "But is that really a surprise? Let's rush a little. Bruce. Please."
Bruce holds him there for long enough to make Tony repeat his plea, and he can feel Tony winding up with need, his muscles resisting being held in place. He waits until he can feel Tony's about to start talking again, probably in a whole frustrated burst of words, and then he moves.
The loud, wordless cry Tony gives, breaking needily in the middle is Bruce's extremely satisfying reward, and he lets Tony go, tries to outpace him.
They shift and the whole dynamic has to change because Tony is arching and pushing, asking wordlessly for more than this position can give them. Demanding in a way that makes Bruce want to take even that much control out of Tony's hands. Tony's still holding on somewhere to his thoughts. The hard way he's pushing himself, event he demanding rush of his breath and how Bruce an feel his quick heartbeat even over the reactor's thrum suggests he's trying as hard as Bruce is to put himself past that point.
Bruce curls his hands under Tony's thighs and on one punishing upward surge he pushes and lifts Tony off of him. He keeps lifting on one side until Tony is forced to catch his balance on one bent knee - gasping harshly for breath and cracking one eye open as he realizes Bruce is getting up. When he doesn't see any obvious signs of distress-
"Now is not a good time," Tony scolds - and words mean he's already getting himself collected. Bruce doesn't want to have to fight that uphill battle again, so he just shoves Tony into unbalance.
"I know," Bruce answers, leaving Tony facing into the plush back of the chair, which Stark grips onto by looping both his arms all the way over it. It gives him purchase when Bruce gets ahold of his hips and shifts him suggestively into a wider stance that forces Tony to arch his back downward and practically hang from his grip on the back of the chair. Bruce's push back in isn't slow, but he retains his care. Tony's just as ready for him, and Bruce leans all the way down along Tony's back.
He curls an arm around Tony's side and grips Tony's opposite shoulder at the join to his neck and he can feel the ongoing hum of the arc reactor against the soft skin of his inner arm. It at least is steady, unchanging. Bruce makes good use of this leverage, lifting one knee between Tony's to brace on the seat of the chair.
They both let go, and he pushes, thrusts hard without fear of losing his control or breaking Tony. He has enough control for both of them, it seems, and Tony is pushing back just as hard. When Bruce gets close, he reaches for Tony - and barely has to close his fingers around the head of his cock before Tony's coming through them, and translating the waves of his orgasm through the whole of his body. Bruce isn't far behind him.
His knees refuse to support him afterwards, and Bruce sinks to the floor while Tony smears himself bonelessly into the chair. He seems to be out of words - and grateful for it. It's not as awkward as it should be when Tony slides onto the floor with him and curls against Bruce's side. While they catch their breath for a moment, then can both just be human.
Fandom: Avengers
Pairing: Tony Stark/Bruce Banner
Rating: M, this part is pretty much all smut.
Word Count: 2,666
Status: Chapter 5 of ?
Summary: Honestly, Bruce hadn't gone into this looking to form any lasting attachments - if he was honest with himself, he knew better.
Bruce's arms and shoulders quickly settle into soreness, but he feels good anyway. Tony notice his stiffness after dinner, makes a thoughtful noise and fetches something from a drawer. It seems to be a thick string, interspersed with four plastic capsules which Bruce takes at first for beads. Two of them turn out to be halves of a snap-clasp, similar to a breakaway catch on a dog collar but rounded.
"I got sore too when I first started," Tony explains, leaning over the back of Bruce's chair and nudging the back of his head with his knuckles to get him to lean forward. "So I designed this. Those regular ones are kind of a quack, but magnetic pain therapy has a good basis. This one has rare-earth magnets in it."
He clips it in place and it seems to activate. Bruce can almost feel the magnets pulling to each other through him, against his sore collar bone. There's a soft noise as the plastic clasp collides with the metal edge of Tony's reactor, magnetized.
Bruce reaches up instinctively to pull it away and changes his mind at the last second. He tangles his hand in Tony's shirt - soft, old, and well-worn - and takes advantage of his forward angled lean to yank him over the back of the chair down over his shoulder and into his lap. The chance to ruin Tony's dignity a little and see the shocked expression on his features is worth the risk of his displeasure, which is not remotely the result.
Bruce thought it wouldn't be. He's smart but his intelligence isn't as lightning fast as Tony's. He'd spent almost a week on this puzzle, but finally realized that in order to get Tony where he wanted him, at least in this regard, he would have to assert himself and make the man's mind shut down, just a little. So, having the momentary advantage, he presses it.
He pushes one hand over Tony's sternum, the heel of it lifted to avoid pressing too hard on any delicate equipment. The other goes straight down, palming with more assurance over the expensive fabric at the join of Tony's legs. Bruce finds him already responding, hears the dry click of his throat as he swallows instinctively, preparatory to opening his mouth to pull in more air. He doesn't miss how dark and reflective Tony's eyes have gone, trying to express some complex combination of emotions.
Bruce can't quite sort them all out, but he can tell how much Tony is interested. He cups his hand and pushes the palm of it firmly over Tony's growing erection and watches the pull of tendons in Tony's neck when he swallows again and pulls air in, hissing. The position is awkward, Tony half laid out over Bruce's lap, but it leaves Tony completely accessible while making reciprocation (and therefore distraction) difficult.
Tony's already starting to shift, trying to get them into a better position, so Bruce pushes harder on his chest. He doesn't exactly know if this - whole thing, really, is okay but while he has the edge he takes advantage of it. Tony's an adult, capable of protesting something he doesn't want and he's not so afraid of Bruce - of the other guy, really - that he wouldn't object. So Bruce presses him in place and finally kisses him, taking advantage of his open, panting mouth.
The noise Tony makes into it isn't protest, it's half challenge and the rest encouragement. Bruce takes a liberty with Tony's zipper, and it's probably one of the most ridiculous milestones Bruce has ever counted, conquering it, but - it was harder than it should have been between his nerves and Tony's attitude.
Bruce curls his fingers around skin, but he keeps both his hand and Tony's hard on in the confines of the man's pants, stroking with this limited range of movement until Tony's ready to surrender.
"They come off. They're detachable," it's not a complaint, exactly, but it is breathy and Tony's tipped his head back, well on his way to complete surrender.
"Your pants?" Bruce guesses, affecting ignorance of exactly how much easier their movements would be without the constraint.
"I'd like them off," Tony agrees.
"That makes two of us," Bruce punctuates his words with just enough of a squeeze on his next stroke that Tony can't respond straight away, but he's obviously having trouble trying to figure out why he's still wearing them if they both want them off. Victory.
"So-" Tony starts sharply, halfway demanding, and Bruce stops, warns him with the threat that he'll stop what he's doing entirely, and Tony gets the idea without Bruce having to say anything. Instead he takes a shaky breath and changes his tone. "Please."
Bruce isn't about to make Tony crawl or anything (though when he thinks about it, he might be able to), but that feels pretty good. He's been given control of the whole situation that way, and he knows he's capable. He tries to help Tony with his pants, but by this point all he does is get two good hand holds at the waistband and Tony contorts his way out of them and into a more upright position in Bruce's lap.
"Yeah," Tony agrees, when Bruce looks up at him, before the question is even asked. "Better."
Bruce already knows most of Tony, and the rest is new but not out of alignment with the rest of his figure. There are old scars that trail low on his belly, probably shrapnel, and then dark pubic hair that seems to be only exactly where it's appropriate to be and nowhere else, giving him a cleaner look. Also he's hard as hell and settling his weight pointedly over Bruce's thighs.
Taking the hint, Bruce swipes his tongue over his thumb roughly and reaches down to stroke again. He can feel how every motion affects Tony, translated through the proximity of their legs and how Tony's muscles tense (when Bruce pauses at the base of his shaft) and tremble (as his fingers draw near the head). Bruce curls his free hand around Tony's hip and presses his thumb into the skin behind the protective jut of hipbone, bearing down on the pressure point with just enough force that Tony won't be able to ignore it. Tony draws in a sharp breath and it's like turning off the switch that censors some of his thoughts from finding his voice.
"That's new," he murmurs, twisting his body and dropping his cheek onto Bruce's shoulder so the intimate tone can't be missed, spoken just into Bruce's ear as it is. "You can press a little - nnh. Yeah. Harder."
His voice changes and his hips surge into the motion when Bruce anticipates the request. Tony's voice continues, broken by entreaties or expletives.
"You have rougher hands than I'd have guessed. Noticed when we shook but - god, that's incredible," Tony continues, almost nonsensically. Bruce doubts he even realizes he's speaking, that's probably lost somewhere between dull pain and pleasure. "I love it when you assert yourself. When you're not only in control, you're letting yourself feel like you are. Can be a little rougher if you like. Let me feel it."
Bruce somehow understands that Tony is utterly fascinated with Bruce's ability to be in control. It's more than a little funny - except where it stings. He strokes harder, and Tony's voice goes quiet for only a moment. Bruce can still feel him forming words against his shoulder, and he makes a frustrated noise of his own. He slides his hand back from Tony's hip, suddenly wanting. He shows Tony his rough edges, pushing his index and middle fingers against Tony's anus, rubbing a circle. He has control enough to deal with the other guy every second of his life, he can take Tony at his wildest.
And somehow, that's what Tony wants.
"Yeah, Bruce - that it? The edge? I don't think so. I think we can go a little-" Tony groans mid sentence, reaching down between them with some reserve of presence of mind , sliding the flat of his hand against Bruce's erection where he finds it encumbered in Bruce's pants. "Further. But not - without-"
"Where?" Bruce asks, forceful - surprised at his own tone, but not the way Tony responds to it, jerking like an electric current surged through him and trying to push faster into Bruce's grip. Bruce uncurls his fingers and lifts his hand to splay at Tony's collar bone, pushing him back until their eyes can meet. Tony actually manages half a lopsided and daring grin, but something in Bruce's attitude hurries him past any chance of playful challenge.
"My pocket," Tony answers, but he's already reaching for it, keeping his hand on Bruce. It's just like Tony to produce it casually from the pocket of his dress shirt, in a hurry and without any flourish. It's single use with a tear-to-open design. Bruce's hands are busy.
"Open it," he tells Tony, and Tony's response is half interrupted by the application of his teeth to the notched corner.
"You're this distracting and you want me to open it? Okay this might be about to get a little bit - damp." But he doesn't spill it very far. If Bruce times a stroke to see if Tony - and his running mouth - can cope with it, it's only a little vindictive. The responding instinctive tightening of Tony's fingers covers his hand with lube.
"Well, that's good enough." Tony decides, and reaches back, lifting himself. The transfer of possession is sloppy, with Tony passing the leaking packet into Bruce's applied hand directly and more or less wiping the rest of it from his fingers onto Bruce's. "This is... messy. And hilarious."
Bruce doesn't bother responding. When his fingers are slick enough he reapplies them to what they were doing, pushing and seeking entrance this time, slickly and without any teasing.
Tony's whole focus changes with the unspoken request and he stops talking for just long enough to drop his still-slick fingers onto the hand Bruce still has on his cock. He stops the rhythm, tightening his fingers on Bruce's wrist to convey his point and then-
Tony just opens for him, straightening his back and unerringly relaxing every muscle until Bruce's fingers slide all the way home. Every ounce of blood in Bruce's body seems to surge downward suddenly and if he's ever wanted anything more than Tony Stark at this moment he's having trouble remembering it.
"Only as impossible as I want to be," Tony breathes into his ear, and Bruce decides to be surprised later, instead curling his fingers and hooking them toward Tony's front until he can almost see the stars Tony must be, can feel the whole shock of it through Tony's body.
"You're right," Tony gasps, "Now is - good. Now is great."
He's undoing Bruce's zipper in needy, mindless movements, threatening to catch sensitive flesh in zipper teeth, but Tony's past caring. Prudently, Bruce helps, gets the button. Tony's hands move out of the way and come back with a condom. Bruce doesn't comment on how good of an idea it was for Tony to use his teeth on the package.
"You're gorgeous and you act like you aren't," Tony's saying, his voice higher and tighter with tension. "I thought maybe you knew and you'd forgotten, but maybe you never did. And this is impressive, too."
Tony's slick-fingered stroke is demonstrative. Direct. Bruce groans, and then takes the situation back.
"God, yes." Tony is only mouthing the words but Bruce feels them against his chest. He stretches more slowly around the girth of Bruce's cock but still with enough ease that it can't be hurting him. "Right like that."
Tony doesn't let him stay still for long, he's starting to lift himself almost as soon as they settle, one arm curled lazily, but with evidence Tony's strength, around Bruce's shoulder and neck. The other is what Tony's putting his teeth into when he's not talking. Bruce gets both hands on Tony's hips and pulls him down sharply, holds him still.
"Okay - I'm in a rush," Tony agrees, almost conversationally. Bruce isn't sure where his mind is exactly. "But is that really a surprise? Let's rush a little. Bruce. Please."
Bruce holds him there for long enough to make Tony repeat his plea, and he can feel Tony winding up with need, his muscles resisting being held in place. He waits until he can feel Tony's about to start talking again, probably in a whole frustrated burst of words, and then he moves.
The loud, wordless cry Tony gives, breaking needily in the middle is Bruce's extremely satisfying reward, and he lets Tony go, tries to outpace him.
They shift and the whole dynamic has to change because Tony is arching and pushing, asking wordlessly for more than this position can give them. Demanding in a way that makes Bruce want to take even that much control out of Tony's hands. Tony's still holding on somewhere to his thoughts. The hard way he's pushing himself, event he demanding rush of his breath and how Bruce an feel his quick heartbeat even over the reactor's thrum suggests he's trying as hard as Bruce is to put himself past that point.
Bruce curls his hands under Tony's thighs and on one punishing upward surge he pushes and lifts Tony off of him. He keeps lifting on one side until Tony is forced to catch his balance on one bent knee - gasping harshly for breath and cracking one eye open as he realizes Bruce is getting up. When he doesn't see any obvious signs of distress-
"Now is not a good time," Tony scolds - and words mean he's already getting himself collected. Bruce doesn't want to have to fight that uphill battle again, so he just shoves Tony into unbalance.
"I know," Bruce answers, leaving Tony facing into the plush back of the chair, which Stark grips onto by looping both his arms all the way over it. It gives him purchase when Bruce gets ahold of his hips and shifts him suggestively into a wider stance that forces Tony to arch his back downward and practically hang from his grip on the back of the chair. Bruce's push back in isn't slow, but he retains his care. Tony's just as ready for him, and Bruce leans all the way down along Tony's back.
He curls an arm around Tony's side and grips Tony's opposite shoulder at the join to his neck and he can feel the ongoing hum of the arc reactor against the soft skin of his inner arm. It at least is steady, unchanging. Bruce makes good use of this leverage, lifting one knee between Tony's to brace on the seat of the chair.
They both let go, and he pushes, thrusts hard without fear of losing his control or breaking Tony. He has enough control for both of them, it seems, and Tony is pushing back just as hard. When Bruce gets close, he reaches for Tony - and barely has to close his fingers around the head of his cock before Tony's coming through them, and translating the waves of his orgasm through the whole of his body. Bruce isn't far behind him.
His knees refuse to support him afterwards, and Bruce sinks to the floor while Tony smears himself bonelessly into the chair. He seems to be out of words - and grateful for it. It's not as awkward as it should be when Tony slides onto the floor with him and curls against Bruce's side. While they catch their breath for a moment, then can both just be human.
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