starkingenuity | (no subject)

(no subject)

"Will someone please tell our resident Super Soldier that he's needed on 6th? Like...yesterday? Okay, yesterday the Chitauri weren't attacking and Banner and I were having freeze dried blueberries on the hellicarrier, but you know what I mean, stop being so critical and literal with everything I say. You guys suck." Stark burst across the sky over Thor's head and the blond turned towards the archer standing next to him. A smash of the hammer into one foe did not even cause him to look away from Barton.

"I do not understand many of the words that he speaks," the Asgardian confessed. "He has a conversation with no one but himself."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Clint said, shooting a flying mercenary through the eye while he watched Thor look even more confused. He found a new pasttime, he decided. But, like Tony, Clint wasn't exactly sure where Steve was. He's seen him in one of the buildings but after that-- Clint touched the side of his collar. "Cap?"

"Earth to Captain American, come in Captain America," Tony said, piping music into the background. There was a reason Natasha had taken out her earpiece. "Grandpa, you asleep?"

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The clinging was, in fact, not fun for poor Steve who was moving considerably slower than he was actually capable of doing. The smell of Tony's blood was intoxicating. He could barely stand to be this close and it was obvious the man's suit wasn't working. It was also obvious he was injured.

Halfway there, Steve couldn't stand it anymore. He shoved Tony up against the wall. "Just... don't move," he breathed, trying to get his fill just smelling the man. His teeth stay away. It's just all around weird.

It was hard enough moving with Steve's help. Without it, it was downright impossible. Tony was pinned against whatever this building use to be and Steve's hand, covered in blood. His blood.

The breath against his cheek was the most worrying. In his armor, most of Tony was covered. Yes. There were pieces shorn off and cracks and chinks but the only skin available to Steve was his face.

Tony swallowed. Hard. "Back off, Cap. I don't need a scolding right now, even if you think it's your god damned right as my elder."

There was a lot wrong here. A whole lot.

His breath was shaky. How did Tony smell this good? It was intoxicating. Steve had never felt need like this before. He was older even than most people realized. Erskine's file included every identity he ever disguised himself with and that was how SHIELD found out vampires were very real.

He was worried when they started that the serum might amplify his need. He didn't have any problems, not until Tony and he didn't know why but he kept him pinned to the wall.

Steve inhaled and shook his head, "I'm not scolding. You just smell... so good. I don't understand." What if he tasted as good as he smelled? He needed to know.

Steve licked up the bloody side of Tony's face--oh god. He nearly groaned.

"That's because my sweat is infused with scotch," Tony said, though it came out a whisper and the joke died on his tongue. He didn't understand why. Steve's presence was undeniably unwanted and though he knew the Super Soldier was crushing and moving against his own body, the suit protected him from any faux pas (such as oh, a boner?) from coming through.

He was most grateful for that. He didn't know how they did it in the 40s but Tony had a girlfriend and he wasn't a Neanderthal, willing to club a would be mate.

The tongue against his cheek, however-- That was electric. He closed his eyes, no longer fighting back through the ruined suit that trapped him as much as Captain America did.

"O-Okay, that was...uh...weird..." he said, swallowing. "You'd better hope that I don't have some weird disease, Rogers."

"No, not the alcohol," he murmured, lips nearly pressed against Tony's face. This was the closest he's been to a living, breathing and bleeding human in a long time. It was a bad idea. He shouldn't tempt himself.

The lack of struggling bewildered him. Tony could push him away in the suit if he really wanted. Okay, so maybe injured it was a little different. Steve didn't hunt the living. If a bloodbag or two went missing from SHIELD's stores a few times a week they wrote it off because the people that needed to know did.

Another head shake, Steve swallowed and told himself he needed to back off. This was supposed to be a secret. He could still write it off as a kink and adrenaline if he ended it. "I can't catch diseases."

His breathing was quick and shallow. He learned a long time ago that even if he didn't need to breath that he should and now he barely thought about it. He didn't pull away either. Tony was nearly helpless; he could take what he wanted but he couldn't. He couldn't.

It didn't stop him from licking Tony again.

The back of his head was still coated in his iron matrix armor and so when he hit it against the wall, no real damage was done, thankfully. It took all his effort to get his elbow joint to work well enough to get his hand to Steve's chest, and even then, his fingers wouldn't unclench. He needed to come up with a backup system for this on his next suit. Even with the servos fried, he needed to be able to get the suit to move with him.

"Because of what my dad did to you?" This was not the time, place, or context to have a discussion like this and yet, even as Steve licked at the blood on his face again, Tony did little more than exhale.

Again, it tingled.

Tingled like a current was running through him.

"If it's not the alcohol, it's the reactor. Or my palm oil hair products. Didn't peg you for a blood fetish sort of guy."

His eyes flicked down to the glowing circle. He understood what it did to some extent but not exactly how it worked. His gaze moved to the hand on his chest and then back up again. He was further away now at least.

Steve nodded, "That was mostly his doing." A lot of his ailments before that were due to the quality of blood he could come by and how difficult it was to acquire otherwise. Being sick when he was turned didn't help either. He never got sick with anything he didn't have before. Now he was never sick.

Blood fetishist. Right. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

"Uh, yeah. I'm figuring that out," Tony said, his voice weaker than he'd like it to be. He cleared his throat and tried to push Steve away but the arm joints refused to work and his arm actually seemed perfectly content not to have any fight left in it. Both of those things were...disturbing.

It wasn't like he and Steve needed to be there for Loki's capture, however. Hawkeye and Thor alone could handle the job, and the others...the others might not even be looking for them. Their friendships weren't exactly sold. Or existent.

"As much as I would love to stay here and let you lick me, we still have a job to do. And you have to fill me in on...on whatever this is or I'm not going to ask you around for coffee any more."

Job to do. Right. One that wasn't sinking his teeth into the man he had pinned against the wall. That would go poorly in so many different ways. He knew that Thor, Hawkeye and Widow could probably manage it but they needed to make sure this was finished.

"Yeah, I might," he muttered. It would depend on a lot of things. Namely SHIELD and whether Tony was allowed to know. He took another deep inhale and forced himself to pull back. It was probably the hardest thing he'd ever done and that was saying something.

Tony still needed Steve's help, he didn't want to just sit out on kicking Loki's ass. Luckily, the Captain was strong enough to half carry him and the suit up to the Tower in time to allow them to see what the Hulk had done to the god. It was nearly enough to make Tony forget the strange encounter. Nearly.

Though it was Bruce that helped him pry off each half crushed and ripped open section of armor plating, Tony's eyes were completely fixated on Steve as the blond hovered nearby.

He didn't trust him. Not when he knew that he was bleeding elsewhere.

What had his father done to create a super soldier? Tony kept questioning Steve with his eyes until Bruce announced he was finished and needed a bathroom break.

"H-Hey-- Doc I have glass embedded in my back--" Bruce waved him off. Evidently he had to shit first. Well that was just great.

He forced himself not to think about it as he hauled Tony up the floor of the Tower that Loki was on. Just in time for the god to look up and see them all standing there. He didn't put up any more of a fight.

Steve couldn't make himself go too far from the still bleeding billionaire. He hovered, inhaling Tony's sent as Bruce worked on piecing him together. His arms were crossed as he leaned against the wall and avoided Tony's gaze.

He pulled out his phone and texted Fury. After a brief argument, the Director was resigned to let Stark know. Now the question was how? When? He was probably still being weird but the man tasted so good.

"I could remove it," he offered, wondering if the man would even let him.

"So you can suck on all the pieces?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "If that would even matter. I guess you could probably eat the glass too." But he was curious and Tony Stark and curiosity went as well together as water and lightning.

With a little effort, he turned over.

Each piece of glass removed would make him bleed again and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in feeling the current of pleasure that passed through him just from having Steve lick at his face. His back...well, that would certainly be something to experience.

He pressed his lips together and glanced away. "I'm not interested in the glass. I'm strong but I can't keep something from cutting me." He wouldn't digest it if he ate it either but he hoped that Tony wasn't being serious about that part.

When Tony rolled over, he straightened from where he was against the wall. The closer he got to the other man the more he wanted another taste. The wounds would heal faster with his saliva. Vampire trick though he had never needed to do it himself.

"Don't tempt me, Tony."

"How is this tempting you," he asked, absolutely being tempting. He was Tony Stark after all. He laid like he might at a masseuse with his cheek on his forearm, eyes half closed. "If you don't want to help, I'll wait for Banner. I've had these shards in my back for half the day already. What's twenty minutes more."

Still, each breath made the red ripples on his back rise and fall.

He half smirked into the crook of his arm and waited.

Oh he knew Tony knew exactly what he was doing. It was impossible to ignore him. How was he supposed to resist when the man was looking at him like that? His words were as good as a direct challenge at this point. Steve never backed down from those.

He picked up a pair of tweezers and gently started pulling out one of the shards. He would pull out a few before he did anything with the blood trickling from the injuries. "No, they need to come out. You're still losing blood."

"Maybe," Tony said, "but not at any dangerous levels. Most of my wounds have scabbed over and-- Shit--!" Okay, one of those really did hurt. He shuddered and tried to stay still, but when a two inch long piece of glass was tugged out of your left shoulder, he was pretty sure that gave him the license to curse just a little bit.

The smaller pieces caused his skin to bead with blood ever so slightly but that one might need some stitching.

Tony's teeth gritted. "Bastard shouldn't have been able to throw me like that," he complained. "It was plate glass, triple paned. I don't understand how it broke."

A little bit of ice went a long way, however.

Cursing didn't bother Steve. He was a soldier; he heard plenty of it even if he didn't do much of it himself. He was trying to be careful as he pulled pieces out but it wasn't easy. He was trying to move slow enough that it didn't just fracture more.

After a few large pieces and a handful of smaller pieces are pulled out, he inspected the cuts closely. One did likely need stitches. It was bleeding rather nicely, at least until Steve leaned down and licked carefully, a small sound escaping him as he did. Delicious.

"They're as strong as me, if not stronger and there's no telling if he had done something to the window," Steve pointed out, breath close to Tony's back as he shifted to another cut.

Lazy, muted whimpers and growls rumbled in the back of his throat. Tony wasn't sure what to make of it, why it felt so good, or why he was turned on. He didn't say a thing to Steve as his dad's science project lapped up his blood.

He just hoped Bruce his time...and that there was more glass in his back and across his thighs to receive these little cat-like licks to. In fact, it wasn't until a dozen little shards fell into the kidney bean shaped holding dish Banner left out for that very purpose that Tony even found he had a voice.

Another few shards later, he finally managed to draw in a shaky breath and present his working hypothesis. "Blood-- Is that what makes you what you are?"

The sounds Tony made were interesting and for some reason made him want to do a lot more than just lick blood off the man's skin. He was keeping an eye--and ear--out for Bruce. He wasn't explaining this to the scientist; he didn't have the clearance.

Steve hesitated as he dragged his tongue up another wound and frowned slightly at the question. He wasn't sure he completely understood what Tony was getting at and decided that before he answered a little clarification was in order.

"I don't follow. What do you mean?"

"You're swallowing," Tony said with all the patience of a lover as he laid there, half blissed out. He should have been squeamish, turned off at least, but there was something soothing and wonderful in the way Steve's saliva pressed to his wounds.

Why?

"That means you're consuming-- Well that just sounds disgusting. It feels good. Being licked tends to but not exactly where you're licking. There's something in your saliva. Not an anticoagulant. But close."

He moaned. He couldn't help it.

"What are you?"

He pulled out a few more pieces of glass and paused, then leaned down to lick those as well. Tony just tasted so good. He was consuming. It was a very vital and important thing for him. He just didn't know it could taste so good.

Steve hesitated and decided to just go for the truth. He checked again to make sure that Bruce wasn't coming back before he said, "I'm a vampire."

"Jesus Christ, Rogers, next you'll be telling me that you sparkle or went to Hogwarts!" But Tony knew it was true. There's always a grain of truth to any legend, any story. Vampires... He just hadn't expected them to really exist. What else could Steve be, lapping at his blood, purring at him that he tasted so good...?

Tony's eyes closed.

"Shit. Is this the part where you kill me? I've been almost killed enough today."

"I don't... Sparkle?" He sounded confused by that particular reference. They both knew the Hogwarts one was bogus. Most people didn't expect them to exist. It was how he survived so long.

Apparently Tony believed him, otherwise he wouldn't have kept going. It was hard to tell because the other man was rarely serious about anything. He would work under the assumption that he really did believe him until he was informed otherwise.

"No, we don't have to kill anyone. I've never... fed on anyone that wasn't already gone or blood donations. Those I have to steal but it's better than assaulting someone," Steve muttered, inhaling again. "I've never needed a taste of someone so badly before though."

"Am I suppose to be flattered that I'm not dead and my blood's coming right from the source?" That had to be the reason. He was alive. Steve had just gotten a taste for having a warm meal and not one of the defrosted bags from the blood drive wagon.

So why didn't he just do it the way Dracula and Tom Cruise seemed to life to? Was it too dangerous? Or...did he actually smell -- and taste -- different?

Tony pressed his lips together momentarily.

"Huh. Well, I guess I am a little bit flattered. Finish up, Cap, or you're gonna get caught in the middle of a meal." Why am I so all right with this!?

He wouldn't really consider this a meal necessarily but it was the general idea. Tony's health was still the most important so he set to work removing the rest of the glass pieces from his back and thighs.

"I don't feed on the living," he muttered, dropping the last splinter in the dish. "I never wanted to hurt anyone or force myself on anyone."

He hesitated before he licked up Tony's thigh and stopped when he heard footsteps. He was so handsome.