This is part 3 of 5
marvel_bang Masterpost HERE
Bruce doesn’t seem himself that night or the next, so Steve continues to stay by his side in case any of the effects worsen or change. Fully capable of monitoring his own heart rate, his breathing, his temperature, Bruce insists that Steve go do something fun and stop worrying so much. But as the leader of the Avengers, that’s just not how Steve is programmed. He’s worried, more than he expected he would be, and he doesn’t care if Hulk suddenly shows up during the night and smashes him, because at least that would be normal, expected.
The drowsiness and perpetual calmness surrounding Bruce is more disturbing than the monster he hides deep down. Steve has a feeling Bruce misses his alter ego as well.
“You should at least do something productive. Watching me sleep isn’t going to get me better, Steve.” Bruce fixes the pillow behind him, tugging his blanket up to his chest.
“What if-” Steve takes a breath, for courage. “-I ask you about some medical things?”
Bruce smirks, folding his hands on his lap. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Depends on what you think it is?” Steve’s brow furrows, already regretting having mentioned that.
“Is this about the box of tricks Tony got you? Cause if it is, yes I can help.” Bruce smiles, genuine and charming, and all the things that make people forget the Hulk even exists.
“It may be,” Steve says, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I don’t know what most those things are…”
“That’s normal. Most people don’t. Tony isn’t exactly a regular guy, I’m sure you know.” Bruce sits up, taking his glasses from the night stand. “Do you have them with you or do you know what you want to ask by memory?”
“I have it with me,” Steve replies, reaching for the box. “You’re okay with this? I’m not going to make you uncomfortable?”
“I’m certainly not a general practitioner, but I know a few things about the human anatomy. Sex is a normal part of life. This could be good practice for if I have kids one day.” Bruce smirks and Steve nearly crushes the box unconsciously. “I think you’re the one who might be uncomfortable with this situation.”
Steve nods, lips fighting off a smile and losing. “Yeah. Might as well learn from someone I trust at least.”
And that’s how their nightly intercourse conversations start. It’s the beginning of something shockingly…entertaining.
“This one says it’s ribbed,” Steve reads aloud. “Does that mean it’s more pleasurable for the woman?”
“Show me the box,” Bruce says, gesturing for it from his bed. His legs are stretched out and Steve is at the end of the bed, right next to Bruce’s socked feet. He hands him the yellow box. “It says it’s ribbed at the base and tip. That means you both – uh – feel it.” Bruce knows how nervous Steve gets with explicit descriptions.
“I’ll use my imagination, I guess.” Steve reaches for another set. “What’s the difference between ribbed and studded?”
“More pleasure with studded.” Bruce clears his throat. “I mean it’s more upraised, and usually it’s pre-lubricated.”
Steve frowns, but takes out another packet. “Climax control? That sounds painful.”
“It’s not. There’s an anaesthetic agent at the tip that seeps into the erection during intercourse and, well, you can’t climax as quickly.”
Reading the packet carefully, Steve turns to look at Bruce. “You almost quoted it word for word.”
“I was bored in med school,” Bruce answers simply. “After studying eighteen hours straight, your mind goes to odd places. The internet is a treasure chest of useless facts. But right now, you’re proving that my knowledge isn’t that useless after all.”
“Guess not.” Steve chuckles. “That doesn’t make me want to use the Mac Tony bought me, though.”
“I’ll show you the good stuff online one day. So, what’s next?” Bruce grins, leaning closer to peek inside the box.
And the next night—
“This is the last one.” Steve’s eyes widen. “Why does it say it’s flavoured? Do I want to know?”
Bruce, having spent hours the previous night explaining ways to please a partner, how to delay orgasms, the types of sexual relations and even some basic positions, really isn’t afraid to say anything at this point.
“That would be for oral sex. If a woman or man is performing fellatio on their partner, and if they are using a condom, then flavoured is usually a better choice. The taste of regular condoms is god-awful and I really don’t suggest you try it.” He pauses then adds, “There are a ton of flavours available: bubble-gum, lollipop, fruit, chocolate, you name it.”
Steve swallows around his nerves, trying to process all that. He nods slowly. “I’ll take your word for it, doctor.”
“I guess I’ll let that slide since we’re talking about sex.” Bruce smirks. “So anything else you wanna know? Or are you an expert now?”
“I’m far from being an expert, and I’m sure there’s a lot more I may need to know, but I wouldn’t know where to start.” Steve feels his skin burning up at the thought of the ‘new world’ and how prominent sex is in society nowadays. He really needs to catch up so he doesn’t seem so much like a man out of time, which he is.
“Pick a topic, and we’ll go from there. Unless you want to stop?” Bruce watches him with intensity, looking for any sign of discomfort. Maybe he’s pushed too far? Steve isn’t from this decade; this isn’t how they behaved back then.
“P-positions,” Steve stutters out promptly. “You mentioned something about Karma sutra?”
“Kama sutra – good choice. I’d say that’s the classier side of sex.” Bruce beams at Steve, taking his glasses off. “We might need the internet for this one. I don’t have a book on hand about that. Do you mind handing me my iPad?”
Steve tilts his head.
“The touch screen that Tony gave to all of us on his birthday, and that Thor broke five minutes later.”
“Oh.” Steve reaches for it. “That’s what it’s called? Strange.”
Bruce laughs softly. “Okay. So there are 36 chapters, and despite people thinking it’s a book strictly about positions, there’s actually a lot more to it. It’s about mutual understanding of pleasure, love and family. It’s kind of like a guide to having really good sex with the person you love the most in the world.”
Steve considers that a moment. “That actually sounds like a really interesting book. Would the library have it?”
“I’m thinking yes, but I could save you time by sending you this website.” Bruce smiles. “But let’s get to your question: positions.”
Steve gulps, but manages not to flush for once.
“According to this source, there are 64 positions. I’m not sure if you want to go through all of them, since most of them are similar, but you can tell me to stop if it’s too much.” Bruce looks over his glasses at Steve.
“Okay,” Steve breathes out, fiddling with the strings of his jogging pants.
“Just scream if you have to,” Bruce teases. “I won’t take offence.”
Steve scratches at the nape of his neck, looking away. “I’m fine. I like how you explain things. It would probably be worse with someone else.”
“Glad to be of help.” Bruce dips his head. “Okay. Number one is called Greyhound. And it requires the person being penetrated to be on all fours while their partner is kneeling behind them…”
It’s been a week, and Bruce is doing much better – the complications having long faded and Hulk’s presence returned – but their nightly discussions of a sexual nature haven’t stopped. They’ve simply changed their meeting place.
Bruce is working on his previous formula, lowering the dosage of this solvent, tweaking the amount of that chemical, and Steve is seated nearby, out of the way. They’re on position 35 of the Kama sutra – getting off track a few times in the past week by Bruce’s personal anecdotes that Steve enjoyed perhaps too much – and eating Indian food because Bruce said Steve had to try some.
“Can I say something before you start?” Steve asks, dipping the last of his naan bread into his curry.
For some reason he brought along the condoms. He’s probably become accustomed to having it around when Bruce mentions which type would work best with which position. Steve’s a hands-on type of person; visual aids always help him learn.
“Shoot.” Bruce’s plate has been finished for an hour; he practically inhaled the food as soon as they sat down.
“Have you tried any of these things? Is that what people do now? Or do you just remember everything you learn about?” Personally, Steve has a notepad. He draws what he imagines the positions would look like with a description of it below each.
Bruce blushes, like really blushes. And Steve is so relieved he isn’t the only person in the house who’s plagued by this happening.
“I just like reading up on interesting topics. Sex happens to be one of them. I tried a few things in my youth, back before…you know. But I never got very far in the Kama sutra department.”
Moving the condoms from his lap to the table, Steve stands and throws his container away. It’s certainly better than the shawarma Tony made them try after they were too exhausted to even speak. Or maybe that’s why Steve couldn’t enjoy it. Note to self: try shawarma again on a good day.
Bruce sees Steve’s intense expression, and wrongly assumes it’s related to what he just said. He feels horrible for all of the personal comments, opinions and, most of all, stories he’s shared with him; Steve’s more or less a virgin, and it must be freaking him out to know how sexually adventurous his teammate is.
“I’m sorry,” Bruce says suddenly.
Steve glances up from wiping a stain on his pants. “For what?”
Bruce is pouring a liquid into a large beaker when he notices Steve grabbing the box of condoms on his table. He’s only distracted for a moment, but it’s enough for him to drop the – luckily – empty glass tube, and cut himself in the process.
Rushing over and looking ready to fight an army, Steve grabs Bruce’s hand. “This is my fault. Wait a second.”
“No, it’s me. I wasn’t paying attention,” Bruce corrects.
There’s nothing at hand that could be used as a bandage or temporary gauze for the cut in Bruce’s palm. Steve decides his gym shirt has seen better days, and should be used for a worthy cause. He rips a strip from the bottom of it, smiling proudly when he looks up at Bruce.
“I was going to throw this out soon anyway.” Steve wraps Bruce’s hand carefully, apologizing each time that he hisses. Sadly, the makeshift bandage doesn’t look secure or comfortable in the least. “Maybe we should go upstairs and find something better—”
Maybe it’s the Hulk’s return that inspires it. Maybe it’s through knowing how little experience this man has. Maybe it’s the effect that wonderful, kind, reliable Steve Rogers has on everyone he meets. Or maybe it’s a combination of all those things that drives him to do it. But all Bruce knows is that Steve makes the taste of curry much, much more appealing.
Steve is moaning into Bruce’s mouth without meaning to, and that seems to stir him up even more. He fists his hands in blond hair, dragging Steve down to his height, licking into Steve’s mouth like he needs every bit of the flavour there.
This isn’t exactly what Steve thought would happen, but perhaps he secretly wished he could have someone with so much experience show him how things are done. Steve hunches over, wrapping his arms around Bruce, stroking his dark hair gently, pressing his body closer with each new kiss. When Steve’s hand drags languidly down Bruce’s back, he pulls away, eyes darker than night, and sweeps whatever he had on his table onto the floor.
“I’ll make more!” Bruce somehow lifts Steve right off the ground, dropping him onto the now bare surface.
“W-what are you doing?” Steve asks, more turned on than he’s been in a while. Bruce is strong, even without turning green, and the lust in his eyes is almost intoxicating to see.
“I—” Bruce taps the side of Steve’s thigh, urging his hips up, “—am—” he drags down Steve’s pants, then his white briefs, “—sucking—” Bruce kneels down, licking his lips, “—your cock.”
Steve gasps when lips wraps around the head of his erection with just enough pressure, making the air stutter painfully out of his lungs. “Or, if you prefer, the more scientific expression is ‘making you blow your load down my throat’ I think.”
A very high-pitched sound - a cute one - is all Steve utters before Bruce forces more of the length between his spit-shiny lips. Bruce hums, smirking around Steve’s cock when he arches off the table, grabbing the edges so hard he could be leaving handprints. Keeping both palms flat to Steve’s thighs, Bruce bobs up and down, lathering Steve’s cock as he goes, fluttering his eyes as he makes eye contact with Steve. When the table creaks dangerously, Bruce pulls off, panting warm air against the head.
“You can touch me, you know.” Bruce bites his lip; Steve’s cheeks are bright red, his hair sticking to his forehead where a trail of sweat has started to collect. “I want you to touch me, Steve. Makes this a lot more interesting.”
Taking Steve as far as he can, he sucks messily at the Steve’s straining cock, darting his tongue out to collect the pre-come spilling out in bursts. Steve bucks up into the heat, but the hands pressed to his thighs are steady, keeping him down against the cold table. Bruce adds a bit of teeth, just a graze, and Steve’s hands fist into the dark hair instantly, needing the contact, the connection before he loses his mind entirely.
Bruce drops one hand, trailing it along the inside of Steve’s thigh, pulling a full-bodied shiver from him. His blunt nails scrape gently, following along Steve’s short, light pubic hair, stopping right between the base of Steve’s cock and his neglected entrance.
“Tell me if you don’t like it,” Bruce murmurs, mouthing at the head of Steve’s cock. “Otherwise I’ll just make you come, and come, and come…”
Steve whimpers, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “P-please,” he chokes out.
“Oh, you like that?” Bruce grins. “God, I’ve missed this.”
Bruce swallows Steve’s cock all the way to the base, his finger circling Steve’s entrance gently. There’s something about a doctor, a good friend, someone with a lot of sexual experience, taking pleasure in Steve’s arousal that is bordering on too much to handle. Dragging his finger in the saliva dripping along Steve’s cock, Bruce presses in with his middle finger, slowly, until the tightness eases up.
“Oh. My God. Yes,” Steve mewls, nearly falling back against the table when his elbows give way.
Bruce drags his mouth away, wrapping a hand at the base of Steve’s cock. “I’d say you enjoyed that. But just in case—”
Warmth and slick covers Steve’s pucker, when Bruce leans in, lapping his tongue between Steve’s thighs. There’s not much fight left in Steve at this point; he can’t deny he’s close, so close, that he needs to come or he’s going to very well die.
“Please,” he begs. “Please. Just—"
Bruce’s tongue slides in at the same time as he strokes Steve’s cock, not worrying about the death-grip in his hair dragging him closer, forcing his tongue deeper inside the ring of muscle. Steve rolls his hips, grinding his ass on Bruce’s face, and he knows how this would look from the outside, but he can’t be bothered when there’s warmth, and pressure, and a hand twisting at the head of his cock and oh—
Steve spills over Bruce’s skilled hand, crying out as the tongue continues to impale him through the aftershocks. And this time Steve does lean all the way back when his limbs give out, his legs falling apart as Bruce shifts to standing between them.
“Good?” Bruce whispers, running his clean hand across the bare patch of skin where Steve’s shirt was ripped.
“Very good,” Steve replies, feeling spectacularly sexed out. The tension between them must have been building for so long, right under his nose. “Thank you for showing me that.”
Bruce moves closer, rubbing circles along Steve’s abdomen softly. “The pleasure was all mine.”
Steve grins when a kiss is pressed to his stomach. “My lips are here.” He points, pushing himself up to get within reach.
“So they are,” Bruce answers coyly. “But I don’t think you want to—”
“Shut up, doctor,” Steve cuts in, dragging Bruce in so roughly the wind is knocked out of him when their lips finally connect again. “And teach me how to do what you just did, okay?” He pats the front of Bruce’s pants playfully.
Eventually Steve is good enough at blowjobs that he can use his mouth and fingers to tear Bruce’s maddeningly collected mask away, bringing him to climax within five minutes each time. And Bruce, on the other hand, challenges himself. Each time Steve visits, Bruce is drawn away from his work – not by the younger man, but by his craving for the sounds and scent that are purely Steve – and he attempts to beat his previous record.
On a particularly messy, raunchy encounter, Steve brings Bruce to climax on his fingers alone, but he swears he sees green in the doctor’s eyes when Bruce comes apart. Bruce seems to pick up on this, and doesn’t want to put Steve in danger, so he asks him to visit less often.
(Besides, Bruce was getting nowhere with his new formula.)
Tony replaces Steve in the lab – not sexually, but as company – and aids Bruce with his research, keeping an eye out for any more mishaps (at Steve’s stern request).
They drift apart in a natural way, still being friends – just not needing the physical aspect as much. Instead, they go for walks together, they cook together, and they take each other’s side when the Great Friday Movie Debate comes around each week.
Steve is okay with them just being friends because at least now Bruce is spending more time out of his lab, and Steve isn’t afraid to be in Bruce’s vicinity for long periods of time.
There’s something wrong with Tony, more than usual that is.
When he isn’t watching over Bruce, he’s hiding away in the R&D department or in his personal workshop, constantly building, or he’s lying in bed for often days at a time, drinking scotch straight from the bottle. (Steve knows because Jarvis told him as much.)
Pepper has been his friend, or at least she was, for a very long time. And before that she was his confidant, his assistant that he could always count on to keep him stable. But now that Pepper herself is having a hard time getting over the break-up, she can’t be around to hold Tony’s hand. And that aside, she’s his CEO; she doesn’t have time to mope in bed, and reminisce over all the good times she shared with Tony. There’s a company to run, and Tony is in no state to do it – not that he ever was.
For a week, Steve asks the other Avengers what to do, and they tell him to just give Tony time and space, and he’ll be right as rain in no time. (Phil says he sees nothing out of the ordinary, but that Steve can borrow his taser if he’d like to.) But what if he isn’t? What if this time is actually different? Steve takes their advice, though his uncertainty makes him anxious, and he concentrates on other things.
It never seemed like a possibility to Steve, but Clint and Natasha are socializing with the rest of the household at long last.
Natasha likes to spar with Tony – when he isn’t busy drinking himself into an early grave – and helps Thor with his hair when he breaks the mirror in his room for the hundredth time. She continues to flirt with Steve, but she doesn’t act upon it anymore. Pepper and Natasha start speaking again when Natasha explains that she never meant to hurt Pepper. (Her goal was to seduce Tony, to make him hard as a rock, and then leave him high and dry and in pain. Pepper really likes that; laughs about it with Natasha until her jaw hurts.) They bond by pointing out Tony’s flaws, and sharing the new ones they discover as time passes. They become so close that they reserve Saturdays for a girls’ night out, picking an unfamiliar restaurant or lounge to check out each week.
Clint eats with everyone, teases Bruce about ‘coming out of his green shell’ while stuffing his face with the Bruce’s amazing cooking, and teaches Phil how to shoot moving targets while falling through the air.
(That leaves quite a few arrows through the ceiling, but Tony doesn’t mind so long as they don’t hit the chandelier.)
Steve and Clint chat, often during movie night, and the leader finds out he actually sleeps in his bed most nights now. Natasha pulls Steve aside and explains that it has to do with ‘wanting to smell Steve’s scent’. Steve could have done without that little bit of information, not that he’s even sure she’s telling the truth. It wouldn’t be the first time she made Steve believe something false.
(Like that time when she said there was a weeping ghost in the basement, and it turned out to be Phil crying over The Lion King.
“There was some dust in my eye,” Phil said, defensively.
“Were you trying to get it out by deafening it?” Natasha asked, smirking.
“I’m going back upstairs,” Steve announced to no-one in particular.
“Wait!” Phil wiped his eye quickly. “Can you bring me some tissues?”)
Overall, Steve is impressed with everyone’s attitudes – Tony would come around surely – and he couldn’t even take the credit if he wanted to.
There’s never been a time where Steve worried about Thor; he’s always so easygoing, so bright and cheery. He makes living in the tower better for everyone around, when he isn’t destroying appliances and furniture. But when he’s upset, the whole team feels it – Steve most of all.
Steve approaches Thor when he isn’t his usual happy-go-lucky self.
“What’s wrong, Thor?”
“My home calls to me. I miss my people, my family. I miss Asgard,” he answers solemnly.
“You’ve been on Earth for a long time. You should take some time off and go back. I’m sure Fury would—”
“I cannot!” Thor interjects. He sighs, looking dejected. “I know myself. If I were to return, I would beg for Loki to be released. And that is not the right decision for my world or yours.”
Steve joins Thor on his bed, rubbing his back gently. “I know how it feels to miss family, trust me. And my home looks nothing like it used to so I don’t even have that.” He smiles when Thor looks at him questioningly. “I think we should make a second home for ourselves, here, in New York.”
“How can we?”
“Well, do you know much about the city? I don’t. We can go explore, get our mind off things.” Steve stands, placing both hands on his hips. “What do you say, pal?”
Thor’s nostrils flare for a moment, and then he’s smiling so wide Steve wonders what he’s done to merit such a reward. “I will follow you, Captain Steven. Let us create an adventure of our own!”
Somewhere between browsing bookstores, trying to understand fashion – what is hipster, Steven? I think it’s a colour, maybe – and sampling too much ice cream for a normal person to handle, they end up stopping a bank robbery.
Well, Thor and Steve just happen to be passing by, Thor’s ice cream gets knocked out of his hand by one of the criminals, and he throws a tantrum of godly proportions. Lightning shoots from the sky, wind gusts and blows some of the men across the street, rain starts falling in a torrential way and…you get the idea.
And since everyone is frightened off (or unconscious), Steve is left to calm his teammate alone, explaining that they can just buy some more. After Steve treats Thor, the authorities show up and praise them both for their good work. Someone, somewhere – where do these people and their picture-taking telephones come from? – snaps a photo of them shaking hands with the police, and all hell breaks loose.
Rumours of a sub-group featuring only two of the six Avengers start spreading like wildfire.
Surprisingly, the Avengers don’t really care what Steve and Thor do in their free time, and most of them even encourage it. Thor likes this distraction and how positive it is, so he requests Steve join him on a ‘formidable crusade in Midgard’.
The next time they’re out together, having an unplanned picnic – Thor is always hungry – an old lady has her bag stolen, and it’s Steve’s turn to leap to her rescue. It takes him all of ten seconds to catch up to the thief, and when the man recognizes him, he passes out.
This time, a news reporter asks them about their reasoning and what their team is called.
“We’ll get back to you on that,” Steve answers promptly, pulling Thor away before he explains how his love for ice cream is what brought this on.
“If we’re going to take this seriously,” Steve can’t believe he’s saying it himself, “we should make it obvious that we are not representing the Avengers. We need a name and a different costume.”
“Indeed! Steven, you are as intelligent as you are brave!” Thor exclaims, banging Steve on the back just this side of too hard.
It’s all Thor’s fault, Steve complains to himself.
They’re in a Halloween shop going through masks, trying to find some that are as far from their usual outfits as they can. Steve picks a black mask with gold tips that covers the top half of his face, and then he finds a black cape and buys that as well. Ever since he was a kid, he’s wanted a cape.
Thor, on the other hand, can’t decide between a Pierrot mask and a pink one that he says matches his red cape splendidly. Steve can’t make eye contact with the cashier when Thor picks the pink – or light red, as Thor deems it - one with sparkles and white feathers at the top.
And if that isn’t bad enough – oh yes, it gets worse – Thor is flipping through channels one day (without crushing the remote for once) and comes across a pretty, cheery weatherwoman.
Steve is in his room, lacing up running shoes for the jog they planned to take. He cracks his door open to answer, “Yes, Thor?”
“Weather forecast!” Thor shouts, hardly containing his excitement.
Raising a brow, Steve steps out of his room. “What about the weather?”
“No, no. You misunderstand. That will be our sub-group’s appellation!” Thor crushes the remote then, accidentally, when he intends to clasp his palms together. “We will be called Weather Forecast!”
It makes sense considering Thor’s powers, but how does that represent Steve in any way. “And how does that include my abilities?” he asks out of genuine interest. Maybe Thor has a logical explanation.
“That is true. I had forgotten.” Thor clicks his fingers. “We can be Weather Forecast Shield!”
Steve blinks a few times, leaning on the bannister. “No, Weather Forecast is fine. Are you ready?”
“I could battle without garments! All I require is Mjolnir by my side.” Thor beams.
As Steve takes out his keys to lock the door behind them, Thor grunts and startles them both.
“I’ve forgotten my mask and cape!”
Says the man who could fight naked.
After another week of stopping petty crimes, Steve wants to call it quits. He’d like to be able to say it has everything to do with wanting the rest of the team to be included, but he knows it’s mostly because people are recognizing them, and Thor’s costume is getting them teased from every possible angle.
“Rain clouds,” Clint calls from where he’s perched on the edge of the couch. “I hear you guys are doing well with saving kittens from trees and walking people’s dogs.”
“We are Weather Forecast, Eye of Hawk. You would do well to remember our name correctly for we have done much good!”
That’s Thor; ever-ready to defend their sub-group’s honour. Steve just slinks down into the couch, munching on popcorn Bruce made him.
Phil says from the kitchen, “Does Thor know people think he’s a Barbie princess?”
“I don’t understand that reference,” Steve utters.
Thor nods in agreement, but assumes it’s a compliment because Coulson isn’t usually mean-spirited. “Thank you, Philippe. But I would prefer to be akin a prince!”
Clint falls off the couch laughing, and doesn’t stop when Natasha drags him away.
The next day, there’s a Barbie princess DVD waiting for them in the shared entertainment room. Thor watches it and enjoys it so much he forgets that he’s meant to be insulted. Steve leaves half-way to try and plan a way to break the news of their disbanding to Thor.
It turns out he doesn’t need to because Thor has other things on his mind.
“I would like to learn of the technology Midgard possesses. It is something you do not comprehend as well, yes?”
“So you want to learn about cellphones, video games and the internet?” Steve asks, raising a brow. “And what happens with our crime-fighting duo?”
“We are merely taking a well-deserved vacation. A Peter Parker informed me of his return to New York, and thanked us for helping during his leave. Do you know of him?”
“Peter Parker…Not a clue,” Steve replies, scratching his chin.
“Spiderman! Spiderman contacted Thor?! I’ve been trying to get him over here for months!” Tony wails from the penthouse elevator.
“He said he does not intend to join the Avengers at this time,” Jarvis informs the room. “And he believes Tony will try to seduce him if he were to move in.”
“Thank you very much, Jarvis,” Tony says dryly. “Remind me to ease up on your sass levels, will ya?” He turns to Thor, saying, “So what was that about technology?”
They decide that Tony is a bad teacher when he hacks into a dating site, uploads pictures of them during their Weather Forecast days, and leaves them with hundreds of emails to sift through. Steve just shuts the computer down and doesn’t reopen it until Bruce explains how to delete messages.
Thor likes Google search most. He types in strange keywords that he expects people on Earth wouldn’t have thought of, but he’s surprised each time to find out he’s wrong. After a week, Steve shows Thor an old picture of himself that someone ‘scanned’ onto the ‘web’, and they are both blown away.
“That is you, Steven! But why does this photograph appear so aged?”
“I guess it’s from before I was frozen.”
“This internet hides many secrets. We need to discover them,” Thor murmurs as though conspiring against the government.
Thor spends too much time stomping – more like trampling – through the tower, excitedly rushing up to Steve’s room to show him images and videos of animals, so Tony teaches them about Skype.
(Clint and Natasha thank Tony by sneaking up to his bedroom one night for some ‘adult entertainment’. Pepper thought Thor’s excitement was cute, but promptly changed her mind when it happened at one, two, and then three in the morning. Phil sleeps like the dead, and was too busy stuffing his face with Bruce’s home recipes to notice. )
It’s 2am when Steve gets his first Skype call from Thor.
“Good evening, Steven!”
Steve can hear his voice through the walls, all the way upstairs in his room. How is this solving the noise factor exactly? “Thor, can you – uh – keep your voice down?”
“I don’t understand. Are we plotting some attack on one of our allies?” Thor’s voice booms again, and Steve sighs exaggeratedly.
“No, it’s just late and—”
“They are not asleep, you have my word! I saw Philippe going into Bartonson’s quarters but minutes ago, and Lady Widow is out with Pepper on their hebdomadal expedition. And –”
“Okay, I get it,” Steve chuckles. “So what did you want to show me?”
Thor almost seems to feel bad for the bloodshot eyes his roommates are sporting the next day, except he finds another picture of a cat sleeping on its back, and that occupies his thoughts instead. Steve wants to jump out of a tall building which – lucky for him – he just happens to be in. If they’re all exhausted (Steve included because Thor had so much to share) then they can’t be ready to fight when the time comes. There have to be boundaries of some sort.
Another call comes in on Skype that night, and Steve decides to go to Thor’s room instead. If anyone has to be exhausted the next day, it should just be him – not the entire Avengers tower.
“Steven! Why had you not simply answered my transmission?” Thor asks, frowning.
“I wanted to come in person so we could talk more privately. I think the team will appreciate it if we keep our voices down,” Steve replies, patting Thor’s arm.
“I see.” And idea comes to Thor’s mind, and his brow shoots up. “Tony has taught me a fine game to entertain us. I am glad you are here.”
Thor pulls out a deck of cards, shuffling them then passing some out.
“What are we playing?” Steve takes his cards slowly. Cards he can handle; that’s what everyone used to pass the time during the war.
“Poker…Wait. I am forgetting a word.” Thor looks up at the ceiling, scrubbing through his bristly, blond beard. “Allow me a moment of thought, Steven. I will recall the name soon enough.”
“Well, I know how to play poker—”
“Ah, yes!” Thor cuts in. “Strip Poker. Starkson taught me how to play it earlier.” Thor’s brow furrows. “Why is your skin the colour of an apple?”
“T-that’s what we’re playing? You know that means we’ll both eventually be…” Steve can’t say it, even after his sex education with Dr. Bruce.
“Nude, yes I am aware. We are both fine, young men. I see nothing wrong with it.” Thor slaps Steve’s knee, definitely leaving a handprint behind. “I am not ashamed of my body, nor should you be. Now come, let us enjoy this new game!”
If only Steve could get drunk, this would be a lot easier to deal with.
It just so happens, Thor is terrible at poker; he can’t hide his emotions to save his life, and Steve can always tell when he’s bluffing. It also turns out, not so surprisingly, that Thor enjoys being naked, regardless of who is in the room with him.
Thor has one sock left – why he chose to remove his underwear before his socks, Steve will never understand – and if he loses again, Steve will be declared the winner. But anyone who knows Thor knows that he has the attention span of a two year old on a good day. And today is not a good day.
Steve is deciding whether to bluff or not when Thor stands, bending over right in front of Steve, clenching his butt cheeks for some unknown reason. Then he twists his body one way, the other, flexing his biceps and back muscles as he goes. And really, whose fault is it if Steve’s mouth is hanging open when Thor turns to look at him?
“I can read your thoughts perfectly, Steven!” Thor exclaims, grappling forward to wrestle Steve to his carpet. “I did not know Midgardians enjoyed such practices!”
“W-what practices?” Steve croaks out, trying to slip out from under a very, very naked Thor.
“Wrestling, I believe it is called here.” Thor grabs for Steve’s shirt, and you’d swear they were having two separate conversations.
“Thor. Thor. What are you doing?”
“Men in Asgard practice this without any body armour. You have an unfair advantage over me, Steven!”
Apparently wearing a t-shirt is an advantage. “Okay, I guess.” His shirt is stripped off faster than he can blink.
“Now the fun begins!”
Thor really wasn’t kidding about wanting to wrestle.
Steve is on his back the next second, parts of Thor’s anatomy pressing in places he wishes wouldn’t, so he struggles, wiggles, and switches their positions, straddling Thor’s hips. Thor cries out with joy, twisting Steve’s arm and forcing him back where he was, face flat against the carpet. Something dangling hits him between his shoulder blades, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that, so he leaps up, unintentionally bringing Thor with him.
Thor bares his teeth, slamming Steve’s back against the wall, pressing his palm right below Steve’s throat. The god chuckles when he feels Steve’s pulse quicken and his throat bobbing beneath his fingertips.
“Play fair, Captain. That is ticklish.”
Ticklish? There may be hope yet. Steve thrusts an arm free of Thor’s hold, and reaches out to Thor’s waist, gently sliding his fingers up and down and—
“No! For the love of Odin!” Thor tries to stifle his laughter, but can’t. “I should not have mentioned my weakness so soon!”
Thor continues laughing as he drags Steve with him atop his bed, pinning his hands down roughly. “That is enough of that. I thought you a real warrior, Steven.”
Steve tries for nonchalance, but fails when his voice cracks mid-way. “I am a s-soldier, just not at three in the morning, Thor.”
“Are you ill? Why is your temperature elevated so?” Thor narrows his eyes. “Have I injured you?” He shifts, and his hips brush against Steve’s in a way that is just plain evil.
Steve gasps Thor’s name. “Sorry. I should go n—”
Thor palms Steve’s bulge through his pants before he has a chance to stand. “I am not ashamed of my sexuality. You should take what you wish to! I will gladly give myself over to a mortal such as you.”
“I can’t just make you…do things with me, Thor,” Steve tries to explain, but Thor insists on palming him.
“Is it not normal to fulfill your needs on this planet? If I am hungry, I eat. If I am dirty, I bathe. If I am aroused, I fuck.”
The word sounds so filthy rolling off of a god’s tongue that it makes Steve impossibly harder, and he’s agreeing to anything and everything Thor will offer before his mind even catches up with it. “Wait, wait. You’re not even turned on. I don’t want this to only be about me.”
Thor tilts his head, eyes shining with admiration. “Such beautiful words, Steven. But fear not, I can feel the heat building in my loins as we speak. You are a very alluring man.”
Steve flushes, but can’t even thank Thor because his pants are being ripped off and thrown across the room. He opens his mouth to protest one last time, and Thor silences him with a palm over his lips, dipping down to breathe in the smell of sex and pre-come on Steve’s cock.
“Your scent is potent. I will enjoy this very much.” Thor dabs some of it on his fingers, shoving them into his mouth without hesitation. “Oh. Why have you been hiding this for so long?”
Steve’s hands tangle in Thor’s hair, pulling gently when Thor tongues across and beneath his balls, humming so loud it feels like a vibrator (Bruce is an efficient teacher). Tugging a bit more on Thor’s hair, Steve hopes he gets the message through; he’s not worked on his stamina enough to survive this kind of teasing.
Thor moves his hand from Steve’s mouth and grabs his waist instead, flipping him over with one swoop. He leans over Steve’s body; his cock fitting between Steve’s spread legs easily. Steve’s socks suffer the same fate as his pants, and Thor’s hand finds Steve’s cock hanging heavy between his thighs.
“I believe you are mostly untouched, are you not?” Compared to Asgardian royalty, most people would seem like virgins.
Thor’s breath is dizzyingly warm against his bare neck, and when Steve looks down between their bodies, he sees the single socked foot and it makes him oddly at ease.
“I’ve had some experience lately.”
“I shall provide you with more,” Thor murmurs (as much as Thor can), tracing Steve’s ear with his tongue.
Hips shift, and Thor’s cock is rubbing slick between Steve’s ass, catching on his entrance with each thrust. Thor nibbles over Steve’s shoulder as his hand wraps firmly around Steve’s length, easing him into the pace. His strokes are rough and tight around Steve, his palm secure and mostly dry. It burns deep all across Steve’s skin, and his chest heaves with each forward movement of Thor’s hips.
Thor is sweating onto Steve’s back, his hair tickling his shoulders, and Steve nearly collapses when Thor’s cock prods his entrance accidentally. Thor leans forward, holding Steve up and stroking faster, swiping his fingers over the head with each tug.
“You are intoxicating, Steven,” Thor growls out, spreading Steve’s ass wide to watch as his cock presses in teasingly, leaving a mess of pre-come behind. “I feel you are close to climax. Do not hold back. I would like to hear you.”
Steve arches, pushing his ass closer to the thick length stretching him slightly. Thor presses lazy, open-mouthed kisses on Steve’s lower back, squeezing at the head of Steve’s throbbing cock.
“Thor,” Steve whimpers. “Faster.”
A seductive laugh rumbles out of Thor, and he sinks his teeth into the reddening flesh of Steve’s ass. “Anything for my leader.”
Thor edges closer, as close as he can, and the tip of his cock slides inside Steve, barely, just enough to make Steve buck into Thor’s tight grip.
“Yes.” Steve leans his head against his arm, biting the skin of his bicep to keep from screaming.
Thor slaps Steve’s ass, pulling his other hand away for a moment to spit in his palm. Steve makes the mistake of looking down at what Thor’s doing exactly to catch his cock slipping in and out of vision within Thor’s large hand. His whole body tenses, squeezing around Thor’s massive length, and he comes for what feels like an hour, all over the bedding and Thor’s hand.
Thor falls forward and against Steve’s back when he comes; the pressure having broken the last of his restraint. He gnaws on Steve’s shoulder until he’s moaning louder and louder, his cock no doubt filling up with blood again.
“May I clean you up?” Thor drags his lips across the marks he’s left on Steve’s skin.
Steve pants noisily, looking back at Thor over his shoulder. “What do you—”
Thor forces Steve upright, kissing him over his shoulder, sucking at his tongue. “I would like to clean you. Follow me to the bathing area.”
There’s no room for refusal, it seems. Not that Steve would; he has zero energy to move right away. He nods, starting to turn to face Thor, but the god lifts him easily, throwing him over his shoulder and scurrying out of his bedroom. He smacks Steve’s ass as he did Bruce not that long ago.
So it’s not just a drunken thing, Steve thinks idly. Thor tastes each of his fingers that were soiled by Steve, and he has to cover his eyes to keep from spontaneously-combusting over that.
Everyone in this tower is so bad, but so good at the same time; it’s a paradox Steve doesn’t care to correct.
“Shall I prepare the water for you in the shower,” Jarvis butts in nosily.
Steve mentally kicks himself for forgetting to turn off that untrustworthy robot – again.