It takes some trial and error, but Tony thinks he has it. All three tentacles are lubed up and bolted to something sturdy, Tony is naked except for a white undershirt that’s rucked up around his ribs, and he’s sprawled comfortably on his napping-couch.
“System go for testing,” Tony says, and his robots snap to attention. One squirms up against his hot-and-bothered cock. Instead of wrapping around it and stroking, the tentacle plucks at his skin with its suckers.
“Weird sensation, Number Three,” Tony tells it. The learning program needs a little more feedback from something that isn’t a badly singed crash test dummy.
In response, Three changes tactics and attaches itself to the delicate skin of Tony’s inner thigh and latches on, suckers pulling hard. Tony feels the hot prickle of bruises forming. “Good,” he says, voice gone breathy already. “Reinforce behavior.”
For a torturous span of minutes, all the tentacles want to do is suck neat rows of round hickeys up and down Tony’s legs and chest. “I can’t take this much longer, I’ll pop,” Tony pants finally. “Introduce some entropy, up the parameters for novelty-seeking.”
The tentacles abandon their hickeys and go roving for new fun spots. One finds a nipple, Three finds his dick again, and Two makes a foray down under. “That’s the stuff,” Tony says. “Iterate at about four and a half degrees of freedom, guys.”
Number Two delicately pushes at his ass, and Tony holds his breath. This is the part that could go very bad very fast. The hydraulics inside the mechanical arms could easily exert injurious force, and while Tony was careful about his code, there’s still a moment of thrill as he waits for it to perform.
Then there’s a slick, intrusive slide, and Tony’s mouth falls open. It’s not quite like fingers or other toys. Purposeful, but alien. “Yep, good, full speed ahead,” Tony gasps.
That’s all the encouragement the tentacle needs to start pounding him into the couch cushions.
Oh, fuck, this was a terrible plan, Tony thinks, because there’s no way he’s going to be able to stop obsessing over this.
Then someone knocks on the door.
“Full stop!” Tony commands.
Obediently, his tentacles freeze. He’s built them so they could stop on a dime, which is working great. What he hadn’t developed was what they should do after they stopped. He doesn’t want anything to tear if a startled robot decided to jerk away, so for the time being they respond to his safety command by locking up instantly. Had it just been one tentacle, as originally planned, it wouldn’t have been too hard to wriggle free. However, when Tony scaled up to three, he forgot to revisit the issue.
He’s effectively pinned to the couch, like a rare beetle on specimen board.
“Tony?” someone calls, and it’s Steve. Of course it’s Steve, Steve who thinks Tony is into tentacle porn is visiting Tony’s workshop while Tony is fucking himself with tentacles and he’s going to get absolutely the wrong idea.
Or possibly the right one, Tony thinks with a wince, considering how much he’d been enjoying himself.
“Don’t come in!” Tony shouts.
“Tony, are you all right?” Steve asks through the door.
“Peachy!” Tony’s weight shifts as he says it, causing his voice to break over the middle of the word.
“I wanted to check on you,” Steve says. “You said you didn’t feel well earlier, and I know how you can be about getting sick.”
Tony groans, and then realizes all too late that Steve will interpret the noise as evidence that Tony needs assistance. Sure enough, Steve’s keying in his password and pushing open the door.
Tony sighs as Steve comes into view.
“Before you ask, this time it is exactly what it looks like.”
Steve stops dead in his tracks. Then he very carefully puts down the tray he’s carrying -- with what looks like soup and saltine crackers on it, Steve’s so sweet and Tony is so, so aware of the thick silicone in his ass -- and tries valiantly to look anywhere but Tony.
“Are you okay?” Steve asks, sounding more strangled than he does while actually being choked out. Usually by tentacles. Tony could program breathplay into his artificial tentacles, actually. The thought makes his dick twitch within its coil of tentacle. It would be safer than the usual ways, honestly -- he’s already halfway-designing a blood-oxygen saturation monitor that could be built into the suckers when he remembers that Steve is still staring very resolutely at Tony’s drill press.
Tony knows what kind of drill press he wants from Steve.
His brain must completely blasted on embarrassment and endorphins if he’s making puns this awful.
“I’m good,” Tony says, weakly waving a hand. He’s going to reassure Steve more, but he’s forgotten a key fact, which is that he’s designed the artificial intelligence recognizes “good” as a green light to resume going to town on him. He should have picked a control word like “polyacrylamide.”
Tentacle Two pulls out of his ass with a long slurp and thrusts eagerly back in. Tony whimpers.
“There’s still some kinks to work out,” Tony tells Steve.
Kinks. Ha! I’m hilarious.
“Not a go, you stupid sex robot, repeat, not a go.”
Tony’s about five seconds away from breaking out into helpless, mortified cry-laughter. The tentacles wrapped around him halt their ministrations, but he’s still sticky and full and prickling all over with the desire to get fucked senseless.
Steve makes a small pained sound. Tony looks at him in helpless apology. Poor Steve, standing there in his Avengers 5k Fun Run extra-large t-shirt and comfiest sweatpants, the kind of thing he wears when he’s looking forward to sitting down on the couch and turning on a dumb fantasy flick. Tony had promised him a Princess Bride re-watch earlier that week -- Steve had probably been planning to ask Tony if he wanted to hang out on the couch with a movie until he felt better.
Taking stock of Steve’s sweatpants yields the unexpected fact that Steve is really, really hard.
Oh. Ohhhhhh shit.
“Or,” Tony says carefully, “it could be a go. They respond to vocal commands, and aren’t keyed to my voice in particular.”
“That’s interesting,” Steve whispers.
Tony holds his breath. This is possibly the most vulnerable he’s ever been in his life. He’s mostly naked, speared on a very large, very non-standard dildo, and he’s just propositioned Captain America, a man he’s been attracted to for longer than he likes to contemplate. Maybe more than just attracted to.
Steve’s not staring determinedly into the middle distance anymore. He’s fixated on Tony, gaze traveling in a loop from his face, down to the fun zone, and back up. He doesn’t seem repelled. He looks -- almost -- like he might be game for this.
Tony’s life is so weird.
“So if I tell them to start fucking you again--” Steve ventures, taking a tentative step forward.
The tentacle in Tony’s ass wriggles in response. “Yep,” Tony gasps. “They’ll be happy to oblige.”
Steve’s pupils go wide and dark. It’s not like Tony’s never imagined making a pass at Steve. He just never imagined it going quite like this. Steve moves like he’s not entirely sure how his feet are attached to his body, stumbling toward Tony until he can fall, graceless, into a swivel chair barely a foot away from the couch. If he moved just a few inches, his knee would graze against Tony’s. His hard cock is an obvious line down his left leg. Now Tony knows how Steve likes to hang.
“Get on with it, then,” Steve says, nodding to the tentacles like they have a business relationship. Tony whines as things get intense again, very fast.
It was a lot when Tony was on his own, letting his new toys do as they pleased with him. With Steve at the wheel it’s a thousand times more. He feels the thrill of being taken, giving it up to somebody else. Even better, now instead of giving it up to his own brilliant engineering, he’s giving it up to Steve.
Steve’s hands are clamped onto the armrests of his chair, knuckles bone-white.
Tony traces the line of sucker-marks that trails from his right nipple down to his opposite hipbone, enjoying the sting as he scrapes a bit with his fingernail. That’s nice. Even nicer is the way it makes Steve’s cock twitch in his pants.
“Hold his -- hold his thighs open. I want to see,” Steve requests, gaining confidence, starting to settle into a mindset where this is about sex, not an experiment that’s landed a teammate in an awkward predicament. God, Steve is such a top. Tony hadn’t thought about it in exactly those terms before but it’s obvious now why he’s great at it. It makes sense that Steve could take his easy command in the field and transform it into something unbearably hot.
“Do you want to touch yourself?” Tony asks, because in Steve’s position he’d be dying for a hand on his cock. “I don’t mind. Obviously.”
“Yeah,” Steve says, and pulls his dick out with a sigh of relief. “That’s -- you look real nice, Tony.
“You think so?”
“This is kind of a custom-made fantasy for me,” Steve says, then blushes hard. “Maybe you didn’t need to know that.”
“You want me to make more of these?” Tony asks, breathless. “I could have them hold me down, if you like. Put me exactly where you wanted. You’ll find they’re very flexible, and so am I.”
Steve groans and works his cock faster. “Can you take it harder?”
“Try me,” Tony says, absolutely one hundred percent game for that.
“Deeper,” Steve tells the tentacle inside Tony, voice gone husky.
It complies, getting thicker as it goes. Tony arches his back and welcomes it, Steve’s gaze on him so heavy with intent that it’s like a physical object sliding over his skin.
Steve tries everything. He’s creative, completely tuned into Tony’s responses, and a little evil. Tony’s a gasping wreck, hands flexing open and shut on nothing as he feels orgasm starting to build in an insistent, inevitable way.
Tony wants Steve to be touching him while he comes. It’s a hopeless desire, because they haven’t -- for all of the sex stuff happening, it doesn’t quite seem possible that Steve would want to touch Tony skin-to-skin.
He must reach out, give some inadvertent sign what he wants, because Steve stands up on shaky legs. To Tony’s surprise, Steve picks his way around the whirring, thrusting mess of tentacles sprouting from the workshop floor and climbs onto the sofa. He straddles Tony, one hand braced on the back of the couch and one attending to his own flushed cock.
“This okay?” Steve asks.
Tony nods. Steve fills his entire field of view, a broad expanse of chest and shoulders. Tony feels simultaneously overwhelmed and so, so safe. “It’s good, really good, perfect.”
The robots hear him and increase their efforts.
“Unh, fuck, ngh,” Tony grunts. Stupid over-enthusiastic learning program.
“Slow it down, boys,” Steve says with a chuckle. “You’re going to wear him out.”
“Thanks,” Tony says as the tentacles adjust to a more langid pace.
Steve smiles at him and strokes his fingers through Tony’s damp hair. “You’re doing amazing, handsome,” he says. Tony turns helplessly into the touch, glowing under Steve’s praise, savoring every second of it. “Look at you.”
“Gonna--” Tony rasps, hips bucking as a clever tentacle nails his prostate again. Sweat is beading on his forehead, running in tickling paths down into his goatee.
“I know,” Steve says.
Then Steve abandons stroking himself and folds one big hand around Tony’s cock instead. Tony cries out because it’s perfect; Steve’s been paying attention to what he likes and replicates it exactly. He thinks he might cry, it’s so good.
It doesn’t take much -- a few strokes of Steve’s hand in time with the tentacles sliding over and inside of him, and Tony’s punched in the gut with orgasm.
He shakes as it hits him, and through the haze he hears -- or maybe feels -- Steve draw in an astonished breath. “Tony,” Steve says, soft and almost reverent.
Then he dips his head and they’re kissing, Steve’s lips gentle on Tony’s as he shudders through the aftershocks. Tony finds just enough strength to grab Steve by the back of his neck and hold him there.
“Let me, let me,” Tony pants, reaching down blindly to find Steve’s erection. Steve gasps as Tony gets a grip on him, and Tony kisses him and kisses him as he pumps Steve frantically. The toys Tony made are still playing with his softening dick and sore ass, torturing him on the edge of overstimulation, but he doesn’t want to stop even for a second to tell them to back off, not when he has Steve right here and on the brink of orgasm.
Steve finishes with a groan so deep it’s almost a growl. Come lands hot and wet on Tony’s stomach, marking him as Steve’s.
When he’s spent, Steve sags, chest heaving like he’s sprinted up twenty flights of stairs, until his face is tucked into the sweaty crook of Tony’s neck.
Tony strokes Steve’s back, amazed at what they just did.
“All done, robot friends,” Tony says. “Stage an orderly retreat, please.”
Tentacles one and three draw carefully away from Tony’s junk. Two takes its time vacating Tony’s ass, leaving him feeling very soft and open. He almost wishes he’d had the presence of mind to have Steve’s dick replace the tentacle at the end and come inside him; he was plenty prepared. It would have been a sweet, easy slide. He bets Steve would’ve liked it.
It’s probably for the best they didn’t. That might have been moving a bit too fast.
I think we’ve already cornered the market on too fast, hm? Tony thinks wryly to himself.
“That happened,” Tony says carefully.
“Mmmmmm,” Steve says. He sounds deeply content. He’s getting kind of heavy, but Tony doesn’t mind. Steve smells like warm sweat and a bit like come. Tony could spend eternity getting post-coitally squashed by Steve and be perfectly happy.
“So...when you said this was a custom-made fantasy for you,” Tony continues, “did you mean just the tentacles stuff? Because I can make you as many of these wriggly robot wonders as you like. I’ve got the workflow down.”
“Oh,” Steve says, lifting his head, sounding a touch bereft.
Hell with it.
“Or,” Tony says, lifting a finger to hush Steve, “was there a more person-specific component?”
Steve’s face lights up with hope like a magnesium flare. He nods, eyes sparkling.
“This is officially the strangest way I’ve ever asked someone out,” Tony says. “But if you wanted to help me test future iterations of this project, I’d like that.”
A bright grin spreads across Steve’s face. “Only if you let me treat you to dinner first.”
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timeasmymeasure
Re: 616 Steve/Tony: Robot Tentacles
Date: 2020-01-04 10:09 pm (UTC)“System go for testing,” Tony says, and his robots snap to attention. One squirms up against his hot-and-bothered cock. Instead of wrapping around it and stroking, the tentacle plucks at his skin with its suckers.
“Weird sensation, Number Three,” Tony tells it. The learning program needs a little more feedback from something that isn’t a badly singed crash test dummy.
In response, Three changes tactics and attaches itself to the delicate skin of Tony’s inner thigh and latches on, suckers pulling hard. Tony feels the hot prickle of bruises forming. “Good,” he says, voice gone breathy already. “Reinforce behavior.”
For a torturous span of minutes, all the tentacles want to do is suck neat rows of round hickeys up and down Tony’s legs and chest. “I can’t take this much longer, I’ll pop,” Tony pants finally. “Introduce some entropy, up the parameters for novelty-seeking.”
The tentacles abandon their hickeys and go roving for new fun spots. One finds a nipple, Three finds his dick again, and Two makes a foray down under. “That’s the stuff,” Tony says. “Iterate at about four and a half degrees of freedom, guys.”
Number Two delicately pushes at his ass, and Tony holds his breath. This is the part that could go very bad very fast. The hydraulics inside the mechanical arms could easily exert injurious force, and while Tony was careful about his code, there’s still a moment of thrill as he waits for it to perform.
Then there’s a slick, intrusive slide, and Tony’s mouth falls open. It’s not quite like fingers or other toys. Purposeful, but alien. “Yep, good, full speed ahead,” Tony gasps.
That’s all the encouragement the tentacle needs to start pounding him into the couch cushions.
Oh, fuck, this was a terrible plan, Tony thinks, because there’s no way he’s going to be able to stop obsessing over this.
Then someone knocks on the door.
“Full stop!” Tony commands.
Obediently, his tentacles freeze. He’s built them so they could stop on a dime, which is working great. What he hadn’t developed was what they should do after they stopped. He doesn’t want anything to tear if a startled robot decided to jerk away, so for the time being they respond to his safety command by locking up instantly. Had it just been one tentacle, as originally planned, it wouldn’t have been too hard to wriggle free. However, when Tony scaled up to three, he forgot to revisit the issue.
He’s effectively pinned to the couch, like a rare beetle on specimen board.
“Tony?” someone calls, and it’s Steve. Of course it’s Steve, Steve who thinks Tony is into tentacle porn is visiting Tony’s workshop while Tony is fucking himself with tentacles and he’s going to get absolutely the wrong idea.
Or possibly the right one, Tony thinks with a wince, considering how much he’d been enjoying himself.
“Don’t come in!” Tony shouts.
“Tony, are you all right?” Steve asks through the door.
“Peachy!” Tony’s weight shifts as he says it, causing his voice to break over the middle of the word.
“I wanted to check on you,” Steve says. “You said you didn’t feel well earlier, and I know how you can be about getting sick.”
Tony groans, and then realizes all too late that Steve will interpret the noise as evidence that Tony needs assistance. Sure enough, Steve’s keying in his password and pushing open the door.
Tony sighs as Steve comes into view.
“Before you ask, this time it is exactly what it looks like.”
Steve stops dead in his tracks. Then he very carefully puts down the tray he’s carrying -- with what looks like soup and saltine crackers on it, Steve’s so sweet and Tony is so, so aware of the thick silicone in his ass -- and tries valiantly to look anywhere but Tony.
“Are you okay?” Steve asks, sounding more strangled than he does while actually being choked out. Usually by tentacles. Tony could program breathplay into his artificial tentacles, actually. The thought makes his dick twitch within its coil of tentacle. It would be safer than the usual ways, honestly -- he’s already halfway-designing a blood-oxygen saturation monitor that could be built into the suckers when he remembers that Steve is still staring very resolutely at Tony’s drill press.
Tony knows what kind of drill press he wants from Steve.
His brain must completely blasted on embarrassment and endorphins if he’s making puns this awful.
“I’m good,” Tony says, weakly waving a hand. He’s going to reassure Steve more, but he’s forgotten a key fact, which is that he’s designed the artificial intelligence recognizes “good” as a green light to resume going to town on him. He should have picked a control word like “polyacrylamide.”
Tentacle Two pulls out of his ass with a long slurp and thrusts eagerly back in. Tony whimpers.
“There’s still some kinks to work out,” Tony tells Steve.
Kinks. Ha! I’m hilarious.
“Not a go, you stupid sex robot, repeat, not a go.”
Tony’s about five seconds away from breaking out into helpless, mortified cry-laughter. The tentacles wrapped around him halt their ministrations, but he’s still sticky and full and prickling all over with the desire to get fucked senseless.
Steve makes a small pained sound. Tony looks at him in helpless apology. Poor Steve, standing there in his Avengers 5k Fun Run extra-large t-shirt and comfiest sweatpants, the kind of thing he wears when he’s looking forward to sitting down on the couch and turning on a dumb fantasy flick. Tony had promised him a Princess Bride re-watch earlier that week -- Steve had probably been planning to ask Tony if he wanted to hang out on the couch with a movie until he felt better.
Taking stock of Steve’s sweatpants yields the unexpected fact that Steve is really, really hard.
Oh. Ohhhhhh shit.
“Or,” Tony says carefully, “it could be a go. They respond to vocal commands, and aren’t keyed to my voice in particular.”
“That’s interesting,” Steve whispers.
Tony holds his breath. This is possibly the most vulnerable he’s ever been in his life. He’s mostly naked, speared on a very large, very non-standard dildo, and he’s just propositioned Captain America, a man he’s been attracted to for longer than he likes to contemplate. Maybe more than just attracted to.
Steve’s not staring determinedly into the middle distance anymore. He’s fixated on Tony, gaze traveling in a loop from his face, down to the fun zone, and back up. He doesn’t seem repelled. He looks -- almost -- like he might be game for this.
Tony’s life is so weird.
“So if I tell them to start fucking you again--” Steve ventures, taking a tentative step forward.
The tentacle in Tony’s ass wriggles in response. “Yep,” Tony gasps. “They’ll be happy to oblige.”
Steve’s pupils go wide and dark. It’s not like Tony’s never imagined making a pass at Steve. He just never imagined it going quite like this. Steve moves like he’s not entirely sure how his feet are attached to his body, stumbling toward Tony until he can fall, graceless, into a swivel chair barely a foot away from the couch. If he moved just a few inches, his knee would graze against Tony’s. His hard cock is an obvious line down his left leg. Now Tony knows how Steve likes to hang.
“Get on with it, then,” Steve says, nodding to the tentacles like they have a business relationship. Tony whines as things get intense again, very fast.
It was a lot when Tony was on his own, letting his new toys do as they pleased with him. With Steve at the wheel it’s a thousand times more. He feels the thrill of being taken, giving it up to somebody else. Even better, now instead of giving it up to his own brilliant engineering, he’s giving it up to Steve.
Steve’s hands are clamped onto the armrests of his chair, knuckles bone-white.
Tony traces the line of sucker-marks that trails from his right nipple down to his opposite hipbone, enjoying the sting as he scrapes a bit with his fingernail. That’s nice. Even nicer is the way it makes Steve’s cock twitch in his pants.
“Hold his -- hold his thighs open. I want to see,” Steve requests, gaining confidence, starting to settle into a mindset where this is about sex, not an experiment that’s landed a teammate in an awkward predicament. God, Steve is such a top. Tony hadn’t thought about it in exactly those terms before but it’s obvious now why he’s great at it. It makes sense that Steve could take his easy command in the field and transform it into something unbearably hot.
“Do you want to touch yourself?” Tony asks, because in Steve’s position he’d be dying for a hand on his cock. “I don’t mind. Obviously.”
“Yeah,” Steve says, and pulls his dick out with a sigh of relief. “That’s -- you look real nice, Tony.
“You think so?”
“This is kind of a custom-made fantasy for me,” Steve says, then blushes hard. “Maybe you didn’t need to know that.”
“You want me to make more of these?” Tony asks, breathless. “I could have them hold me down, if you like. Put me exactly where you wanted. You’ll find they’re very flexible, and so am I.”
Steve groans and works his cock faster. “Can you take it harder?”
“Try me,” Tony says, absolutely one hundred percent game for that.
“Deeper,” Steve tells the tentacle inside Tony, voice gone husky.
It complies, getting thicker as it goes. Tony arches his back and welcomes it, Steve’s gaze on him so heavy with intent that it’s like a physical object sliding over his skin.
Steve tries everything. He’s creative, completely tuned into Tony’s responses, and a little evil. Tony’s a gasping wreck, hands flexing open and shut on nothing as he feels orgasm starting to build in an insistent, inevitable way.
Tony wants Steve to be touching him while he comes. It’s a hopeless desire, because they haven’t -- for all of the sex stuff happening, it doesn’t quite seem possible that Steve would want to touch Tony skin-to-skin.
He must reach out, give some inadvertent sign what he wants, because Steve stands up on shaky legs. To Tony’s surprise, Steve picks his way around the whirring, thrusting mess of tentacles sprouting from the workshop floor and climbs onto the sofa. He straddles Tony, one hand braced on the back of the couch and one attending to his own flushed cock.
“This okay?” Steve asks.
Tony nods. Steve fills his entire field of view, a broad expanse of chest and shoulders. Tony feels simultaneously overwhelmed and so, so safe. “It’s good, really good, perfect.”
The robots hear him and increase their efforts.
“Unh, fuck, ngh,” Tony grunts. Stupid over-enthusiastic learning program.
“Slow it down, boys,” Steve says with a chuckle. “You’re going to wear him out.”
“Thanks,” Tony says as the tentacles adjust to a more langid pace.
Steve smiles at him and strokes his fingers through Tony’s damp hair. “You’re doing amazing, handsome,” he says. Tony turns helplessly into the touch, glowing under Steve’s praise, savoring every second of it. “Look at you.”
“Gonna--” Tony rasps, hips bucking as a clever tentacle nails his prostate again. Sweat is beading on his forehead, running in tickling paths down into his goatee.
“I know,” Steve says.
Then Steve abandons stroking himself and folds one big hand around Tony’s cock instead. Tony cries out because it’s perfect; Steve’s been paying attention to what he likes and replicates it exactly. He thinks he might cry, it’s so good.
It doesn’t take much -- a few strokes of Steve’s hand in time with the tentacles sliding over and inside of him, and Tony’s punched in the gut with orgasm.
He shakes as it hits him, and through the haze he hears -- or maybe feels -- Steve draw in an astonished breath. “Tony,” Steve says, soft and almost reverent.
Then he dips his head and they’re kissing, Steve’s lips gentle on Tony’s as he shudders through the aftershocks. Tony finds just enough strength to grab Steve by the back of his neck and hold him there.
“Let me, let me,” Tony pants, reaching down blindly to find Steve’s erection. Steve gasps as Tony gets a grip on him, and Tony kisses him and kisses him as he pumps Steve frantically. The toys Tony made are still playing with his softening dick and sore ass, torturing him on the edge of overstimulation, but he doesn’t want to stop even for a second to tell them to back off, not when he has Steve right here and on the brink of orgasm.
Steve finishes with a groan so deep it’s almost a growl. Come lands hot and wet on Tony’s stomach, marking him as Steve’s.
When he’s spent, Steve sags, chest heaving like he’s sprinted up twenty flights of stairs, until his face is tucked into the sweaty crook of Tony’s neck.
Tony strokes Steve’s back, amazed at what they just did.
“All done, robot friends,” Tony says. “Stage an orderly retreat, please.”
Tentacles one and three draw carefully away from Tony’s junk. Two takes its time vacating Tony’s ass, leaving him feeling very soft and open. He almost wishes he’d had the presence of mind to have Steve’s dick replace the tentacle at the end and come inside him; he was plenty prepared. It would have been a sweet, easy slide. He bets Steve would’ve liked it.
It’s probably for the best they didn’t. That might have been moving a bit too fast.
I think we’ve already cornered the market on too fast, hm? Tony thinks wryly to himself.
“That happened,” Tony says carefully.
“Mmmmmm,” Steve says. He sounds deeply content. He’s getting kind of heavy, but Tony doesn’t mind. Steve smells like warm sweat and a bit like come. Tony could spend eternity getting post-coitally squashed by Steve and be perfectly happy.
“So...when you said this was a custom-made fantasy for you,” Tony continues, “did you mean just the tentacles stuff? Because I can make you as many of these wriggly robot wonders as you like. I’ve got the workflow down.”
“Oh,” Steve says, lifting his head, sounding a touch bereft.
Hell with it.
“Or,” Tony says, lifting a finger to hush Steve, “was there a more person-specific component?”
Steve’s face lights up with hope like a magnesium flare. He nods, eyes sparkling.
“This is officially the strangest way I’ve ever asked someone out,” Tony says. “But if you wanted to help me test future iterations of this project, I’d like that.”
A bright grin spreads across Steve’s face. “Only if you let me treat you to dinner first.”