* * * *
"You have the preeettiest eyes," he told Steve, leaning heavily against him. Which was kind of inevitable, seeing as Steve had thrown him over his shoulder and carried him away cave man style. He may or may not have licked his neck at some point, he couldn't be sure. He really, really should have stopped drinking this time. "Bet you're pretty everywhere."
Steve sighed and then he was being sat down on something smooth and warm—his bed, probably. He groaned and let himself fall down, nudging the big pillow with his nose.
"No, don't sleep yet. Come here," Steve said and a second later he was pulled upwards again. He slumped against a firm but very warm surface, a steady beating right at his ear. "This is gonna sting a little, but it'll make you feel better, I promise."
He was pretty sure there were lips at his temple but he only had a second to appreciate it, before there actually was a sting right at his throat. He whimpered, trying to bat the needle away, but a strong hand clasped around his wrist, pulling it back. "No, let me, just a second—there you go."
"Wha'a'ya doin'..." he slurred. There were fingertips at his throat, skimming over his neck and down his collarbone. They were rubbing in circles, before setting over his heart. He couldn't put a finger on it, but he felt like a weight had just been lifted from his shoulders.
He breathed in and out. No pain. Huh.
"I'm helping you."
"Why?"
There was a long pause and he almost thought that Steve had drifted off, but then his voice was back, however distant, if real at all. "Because you need it."
"Why?"
A sigh, then, "Because I like you."
"In a pr'fesh'nal way?"
Another sigh. "No, not in a professional way."
"Good." He had a feeling that he hadn't known that before. He should probably try to remember that in the morning.
"Sleep now. You'll need all the strength you can get before facing Pepper tomorrow."
God, his eyes were so beautiful. He wanted to get lost in them and never resurface. When he would die, he wanted to flow in a sea that had the color of Steve's eyes. If he really had to go, he wanted to drown in azure.
"Gonna die..." He mumbled pathetically, closing his eyes and hating it, hating all of it, because he wasn't finished, he just wasn't.
Steve inhaled and shuddered against him. "You're not."
He felt his face heating with anger, but didn't look up at him. "Why are you so damn sure about this?"
Steve sighed again, and now he really was kissing him on his forehead, and he had to remember that, he had to—it was important knowledge, because purely platonic friends didn't kiss each other on foreheads.
"Because you can't die now." Steve was hugging him, burying his face in Tony's neck and why the fuck did he drink that much, he shouldn't be drunk now—this was probably the only time he'd get close to Steve like that and he's wasting it. "I can't lose you."
Surprise filled every inch of his body. Well, surprise and the most potent rush of lust he'd ever experienced. His dick was erect in a second, which honestly was quite a surprise, what with having more alcohol in his blood than the whole Barrymore family had possibly ever seen. He rumbled several encouraging moans and nuzzled at Steve's throat, his eyes remaining shut.
"Tony, no," Steve gasped, his urgent tone a direct counterpoint to the way he was leaning in closer.
Every nerve in his body was on fire; he was swimming in warmth. God, there'd never been a feeling like this. Never in all his years, and he'd been around the block for a few times. And yet, it was possible that he'd never been this hard before. So he moaned, rolling his hips as he began to lazily thrust against Steve.
A long, trembling breath tore through Steve's lips, and he felt his eyes fluttering shut against Tony's skin as he shivered beneath him. Tony gasped along with him; the pace of his movements increasing.
But then there were hands at his forearms and he was being lifted backwards. Steve's eyes were glazed over, almost black with lust. The tent in his pants was hard to miss and his breath was labored. He kept shaking his head, though, and Tony had a feeling he knew the next words coming out of his mouth.
"We can't. You're drunk."
He tried not to whine too much as Steve pushed him off and away, until his head was back on the pillow. "You need to rest. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Cocktease," Tony mumbled defiantly, but was already settling in, because he knew a losing game when he saw one.
He felt Steve's fingertips caressing his hair for a moment. The fucker actually started to tuck him in and he would have thrown words at him for that, but he felt warm and sleepy and he found he didn't actually give a shit.
What he did care about, though, was Steve's lips at his temple and the little Sleep well, Shellhead he whispered in his ear.
Fuck, he needed to remember this.
He needed to remember...
He needed...
